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aloneinthehellfire · 2 days

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Chapter Seventeen: Don't Forget Me

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: mentions of death, violence, claustrophobia, lotsssssss of angst - i am the real monster, gun use,

steve is adorable as usual and y/n is... she needs help, my girl is going through it

[A/N: It's 3am and I thought it was a great time to rewrite the ending so if it's bad, that's why. In all seriousness, I am so thankful to everyone who has an insane amount of patience. I am currently on my last few months of uni so it's been hectic but I do still love writing this fic, I just haven't had time :( I hope the weeks of waiting were worth it?

To sum up this chapter... I have officially decided I am incapable of happiness... anyways, enjoy!]

Don't Forget Me

The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me. The pattern is me.

Ever since those words slipped from your mouth, the realisation was striking the remaining tethers to your sanity.

The radio had cut out a while ago, leaving a long strand of frustrating static in the air. You couldn’t find yourself to care about that right now. Something wants you here. Why?

As it turns out, you weren’t the only one wondering.

“This monster is running around making gates, and following you? Why you?” Steve had attempted to reclaim the radio signal once it had blared incomprehensible static, but he had no such luck. Instead, he turned back to you, feeling sick at the haunted look on your face.

“I don’t know.” You say quietly, staring down at the damp map lying on the rocky floor in front of you.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Steve states, squinting at the small building your finger currently rested on.

“I’m aware of that.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.

“But you still think you’re the pattern we can’t quite figure out?”

“I don’t know, Steve!” You suddenly snap before the colour drains from your face. You didn't mean to do that. “Sorry. It’s just… it’s too specific to only be a coincidence. I just don’t know why.”

Steve slowly nods, cautious of the way you were tucking your hands into your sleeves, obviously trying to hide their uncontrollable shaking.

“Is it to do with the virus?” He asks, the question tasting like poison on his tongue.

The virus is almost covering you now, creeping up your jaw. You couldn’t hide it if you tried, and Steve had already seen it. Already the venom was influencing you more than you had expected.

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, mindlessly flexing your fingers.

“Then what’s different?” He looks at you with a soft frown, a look you’ve seen more in the past few days. “If not the virus, what else could it possibly want with you?”

You start to shrug, conditioned to feel like you were in the dark. Since finding the others in the lab, it had become increasingly clear that you were an outsider to their heroic group. You weren’t there when El was first discovered, completely unaware that the small girl adopted into your family was a superhero in her own right. You didn’t fight a demogorgon, or protect the kids from danger, and you especially didn’t save the world.

But this wasn’t about them anymore. This was about you. Your connection. And with all you’ve been through in the last month, you’re the only one who could solve this mystery.

Your breath catches in your throat and Steve finds your eyes, questioning.

“The dust…”

The giant shadow of a monster you had seen before was looming over what used to be the police station. It didn’t have eyes, nor even a face, but you knew it was looking directly at you.

And you felt paralysed.

You watched as it held out an arm… or was it a leg? Whichever, it pointed at you, something fluttered around its shape. Some kind of dust. Black dust.

Everything in you told you to run, but you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. The dust approached closer, slithering along the ground like vines. And you stared, heart jumping into your throat…

Wisps of wind trailed past your ears, unheard from the heartbeat thrumming against your eardrums until it became louder. It wasn’t just wind… it was voices. Incomprehensible murmurs swirling around you.

Until it wasn’t so incomprehensible any more.

“Tell her”

“Dust?” Steve frowns, tensing his shoulders. “You mean the Mind Flayer?”

“That night the shapeshifter separated us.” You start nodding, absent-mindedly moving closer to him. “I remember escaping the arcade and then…”

“Then?” He prompts, a hushed tone to both of your voices despite the privacy of the rocky ledge.

“I saw the Mind Flayer.” You say and he feels a chill run down his spine. “It- I couldn’t move. And these, like, scary images were in my head before I had this really intense nightmare. The next thing I knew, you were there and I wasn’t stuck anymore.”

“You were in some kind of trance. It took me a while to get you out of it.” He recalls, nodding slowly. Even the memory made his stomach clench. “What did you see? The images?”

“Hawkins.” You lower your eyes, slumping back against the hard rock, “It was… it was like it was on fire. Nothing looked the same. There was this giant gap and-and so many monsters. People… bodies.”

“An apocalypse.” Steve finishes for you and you nod your head, eyes squeezed shut.

“If we don't stop whatever it is opening these gates, Hawkins is going to burn.”

Your words struck a chill down his spine, the fear in your eyes evident even as you try and avoid looking towards him. There was a scared determination in the way you started down at the map. It was almost as if Steve could feel the waves in your brain radiating with an idea.

That's cute, Steve thought as you bit your lip in concentration. Adoring you felt better than the dread of an apocalypse.

“I'm going to the motel.”

Steve’s head almost snapped off his neck in the miniscule amount of time it took him to react, staring at you like you were crazy. You are crazy.

“Are you crazy?!”

He expected some sort of retort, or an ounce of an amused grin on your lips. But you only nodded.

“We know this thing is there. If I can catch it, kill it, whatever, I can save whoever is left. This is my chance to stop it.”

You were being reasonable, offering a calm take on the situation with a decision you were ready to face. Steve, on the other hand, took your proclamation as an act of war.

“If you think for one second I’m gonna let you get yourself killed, you’re outta your mind.” He says with a stern face, prompting your brows to scrunch together.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion.” You shot back and he shakes head in disbelief.

“Y/n, this isn’t just some fun little holiday where you can do whatever you want. You’re gonna walk into a literal death trap!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the panic was already settling in and taking control.

“There is something there that’s been following me, following us! Don’t you want to figure it out? End all of this?!”

“Whatever it is has been managing to rip a gap between worlds with its mind! It’s mind, Y/n!” He stressed, expressing himself with his hands, “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that and neither do you!”

“What does it matter? I’m dead either way!”

You can see him pale in front of you, sucking in a breath.

“Don’t say that.” He whispers out, a quiver in his bottom lip and you hate yourself. Why did you have to hurt the people you loved?

“It’s true, Steve. I’m already out of time.” You tilt your head, a clash of lightning above illuminating the veins that slithered along your jaw. “I want to find whatever it is poisoning our town and I want to destroy it before…”

“Before what? It spreads to other towns?” He frowns, running a hand through his hair. “It’s made it pretty clear it only wants Hawkins-”

“Before it gets you.” You finish, staring up at him. If you looked in his eyes any longer, you would see your reflection, a reminder of what he was scared to lose, but that you were willing to sacrifice.

“We know there’s a pattern. And now we know it’s me. And… and I don’t know why, but it wants me. This virus is barely hours away from reaching my brain and honestly now is the perfect time to finally figure all this shit out and face it.”

“And if you get killed?” His voice cracks and you bite your lip, pretending like you didn’t know the answer when all you could think about for the past three weeks was the inevitable.

“Like I said,” You gulp, forcing yourself to hold eye contact. “I’m already out of time.”

“What about your dad? Robin? All of those little shitheads who clearly adore you-”

“They don’t need me, Steve.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.” You shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “You’ve been doing this shit long before I was ever in the picture. If anything, I’ve just ruined it-”

“Why do you do that?” He cuts you off, flickering between your eyes with a look of concern. “Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

“Steve-”

“No, I wouldn’t have survived this thing without you here. Neither of us would have survived...”

When his voice trails off, you watch him scrunch his face and take a deep breath. He walks away from you, running a hand through his hair. He was thinking, struggling to make a decision. But he always did, and it was always the right one.

“You’re not going to listen to a word I say, are you?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder. You silently shake your head, seeing no reason to prolong this fight. “Fine.”

“Fine?” You repeat, unsure you heard him right.

“I can’t stop you.” He shrugs, sniffing back the emotions lingering at the back of his throat. If he couldn’t convince you, he would just have to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. “But I can help.”

“Wait, no-”

“What? You want me to just sit around on this rock wondering if my girlfriend’s gonna make it back alive or if that’s the last time I’ll ever see her?” Steve lets out a breathy laugh, clicking his tongue. “No, I’m going with you. We do this together or there’s no point doing it at all.”

A flash of surprise hits your face as Steve breathes heavy, not giving you another second to try and convince him to let you go. You had to understand that he couldn’t. He couldn’t let you go. No matter how many times he lived through that scenario in his head, replaying the scene as if you disappearing would leave his heart intact, he just couldn’t do it. Steve knew it was foolish to expect a different ending, but surely he was allowed to have hope.

Was it hope?

Or was it something he refused to see for what it truly was?

A delusion.

“If this thing is really opening the gates, why don’t we, like, make it open another one?”

Steve’s question hangs in the air when he shakes the thought away, realising the obvious answer before the last word even left his lips.

The ground coughed out a soft crunch beneath your footsteps, trailing beside Steve through the twisted crops of Merril’s farm. Even in the Upside Down, the field didn’t differ visually from the real thing. You remember when the crops started to degrade, Merrill grumbling about his neighbour poisoning them. The dispute had been entertaining to you. But now you knew the truth, it didn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath as you trip over a vine, managing to regain your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Steve is by your side at an instant, brown eyes laced with worry scanning you.

“Nothing, just tripped.” You dismiss, frowning at the vine behind you. A shudder rolls down your back when you think you can see it moving, but the clash of lightning above was probably playing tricks with the light.

As you go to take another step, your vision blurs. You try and blink it away, rubbing at your eyes. There’s an unsettling rush of heat beneath your skin, scorching your nerves. It should be cause for panic. But you’ve been through this before. Your only fear was knowing you weren’t hiding it anymore.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve quickly grabs onto your shoulders and you blink as he catches you before gravity took you victim. You didn’t even realise you were falling. “Hey, you okay?”

No. Steve already knew that. How could you possibly be okay when the virus was slowly closing in on you?

“Just… give me a minute.” You catch your breath, trying every technique to stabilise your heart rate as you fall into a squatted position. You hated that this thing was slowing you down, and you hated being out in the open like this, knowing that because of you, the both of you were going to be in more danger than necessary.

Steve stands by your side, slowly sliding the bag from his shoulder to fish out his bat, hand wavering over the metal weapon resting below. No. That was for emergencies. This was just his paranoia setting in.

“Nice day, huh?” Steve offers when the silence became unbearable, making you laugh. He smiles. He loved making you laugh.

“I’ve seen worse.” You reply, standing back up and taking another breath, slow and easy. “Okay, I think I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“M-hm.” You nod, a small smile gracing your face as you adjusted your bag and found rhythm between your footsteps once again.

It was getting scarier, the time between your virus lapses decreasing more and more. You weren’t ready to turn into one of those things. No one could be.

How would I stop myself from killing?

Your eyes drift over to the boy next to you, his admirable determination guiding you both through the farm like it was his life’s mission.

What if you took his life?

You snap your head away, focusing on your breaths. One breath in. Hold. One breath out.

Will I have to watch myself murder innocent people?

One breath in. One breath out. One breath in-

“Y/n?”

Sometimes the dim light of the Upside Down was a blessing. The low exposure shielded you from seeing the way he looked at you; with concern, sadness, pity. You found it hard to be so vulnerable like this. You didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. You barely allowed yourself to be perceived unless it was for all the wrong reasons.

It was a stupid stupid habit to bear such hatred towards yourself for feeling. But this is how you been for years now. You weren’t sure how to be any other way.

“You’re suspiciously quiet.” Steve comments, attempting to lighten the dreary mood. “Not that I’m complaining. Finally, some peace.”

“Rude.” You reply almost instantly, unable to resist the smile pulling at your lips.

Steve hated how dark it was in the Upside Down. Without much light, he was unable to study your features in times like this, to watch the joy return to your eyes after weeks of torment.

But even in the dark, he knew exactly how much hurt you were hiding beneath that worn-out mask of yours.

“Seriously. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks you as he scrunches his face in disgust as the tip of his shoe brushes against the pile of inedible black mush that once was a pumpkin.

“Other than monsters, the apocalypse, and my general state of being?” You smirk at him, but he already sensed your hesitancy.

“Yeah, the important stuff.” He shrugs with a chuckle.

I’m scared if you don’t run away, I might hurt you.

You shake your head free of intruding thoughts, focusing on the ones that sparked unusual butterflies in your stomach.

“Um, you said something earlier. Back at the quarry.” You force yourself to keep walking, trying to hide the smile in your voice.

“Like what?” He blinks innocently. A jolt of anxiety rushes through your brain.

Oh god, what if he didn’t mean it? He could have just gotten confused, or caught up in the intensity of it all and you were about to embarrass yourself for ever thinking differently.

As painful as it is, that option was probably the best one. Maybe then it’ll make it easier when the virus destroys you.

“You, um… you called me your… girlfriend.” You almost cringe trying to finish what you started.

Steve almost trips, looking like a deer in headlights.

“Oh. That.” Steve lets out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… you know, it was just, uh…”

“Heat of the moment?” You offer quietly and he clears his throat.

“Yeah, right. Heat of the moment.”

“Yeah, of course. That’s- that’s what I thought it was.” You shake your head, wanting to move on from this subject as quickly as you could. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“Would it… would it be so bad if it wasn’t just the, uh, heat of the moment?” Steve suddenly asks.

You go quiet. Too quiet. And Steve clicks his tongue.

“Oh.”

“No, I didn’t mean-” You scrunch your eyes shut, footsteps slowing to a complete stop. “It just doesn’t feel right to say it.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Of course it does. Nothing has ever felt more right in my entire life, you want to scream, seal it in stained ink. But you had to look at the reality. You were going to die. You just wanted to make it as emotionally painless as you could.

“We’re not… we aren’t meant to be together, Steve.” You lie straight through your teeth, avoiding his eyes.

Steve scoffs, a hand on his hips as he looks at you in disbelief. “Yes, we are.”

“No. We’re not.” You say with a little more conviction, shaking your head. “This. Us. It’s not… how do we even know it’s real?”

When you avoided his eyes for a little too long, his hands find your face, cupping your cheeks to gently tilt your head to look at him. You just softly take them away, but he never lets go of your hands.

“If the gates hadn’t opened that day in detention… we never would have even looked at each other again.” You say, sadness coating your voice.

“But it did happen. And I’m looking at you right now. We got through it. Together.”

“We survived together. We- we relied on each other because we literally had no one else to.” You frown, shrugging it away as if your own words weren’t hurting you. “We went through literal hell and that’s what we bonded over. We don’t- How can you say this is real when we’ve been faking it all since day one? Let’s just be honest, it’s not gonna go any further so let’s save us both some time-”

“You’re doing it again.” He interrupts, his gaze on you unwavering.

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re pretending like you don’t care.”

You don’t respond.

“I care. A lot. Probably too much for it to just be a- a survival bond or whatever you said. And it’s definitely not fake.” He lets out a soft laugh, heart racing faster. “Actually… I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt something so real with someone before. It’s like- like breathing. You know? I can’t breathe without your stupid cute little face in my head or your annoying voice making me feel calm, or-or even this right here, your delusional belief that someone can’t possibly be in love with you which makes me want to just shake it out of you because it’s true, Y/n. It’s real. I’m in love with you, okay?”

Your mouth parts in silence, just looking at him, stunned. You were only trying to convince some excuses, to try and make it easier when it all inevitably ends. But you hadn’t really taken into account how much you both felt. And now everything was going to be so much harder.

“So, uh, yeah.” He clears his throat, releasing you from his hold and shrugging. “Just accept it.”

You both stand there for a moment, reliving his words. I’m in love with you. Steve doesn’t regret it, but he starts to feel nervous the longer you don’t say something.

“Can you… can you promise me something?”

Steve holds his breath. He knows what you’re going to ask. And he knows that no matter how many times he runs through that scenario in his head, he never pulls the trigger. He won’t take your-

“Don’t forget me.”

It wasn’t the promise he was expecting, brows furrowing with the intention of your words. He just wants to hold you, yell at you until you understood he couldn’t leave you behind, he wouldn’t let the virus take you. He’d find a cure, make one if he had to.

But he didn’t have time to figure out where to start because he was suddenly very aware you were both out in the open. And something was rustling the leaves, watching.

He quickly raises his bat, eyes focused. He can just make out a shadow, making him squint. Probably just another demodog, nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Except it’s taller. Almost… human?

And then he sees the glowing eyes, the gaping mouth. It was the screaming monster from the Radio Shack.

“Steve?” You frown once you catch it too, looking at him, waiting for his call.

“Once it screams, we run. Every monster and their mother is gonna hear it, and we need to get out of the open, fast.” He hisses between his teeth as he watches the creature weave its way through the trees, drawing closer.

“And lead them all straight to the motel?” You whisper back at him, and his face pales. There goes that plan.

“Shit.”

“What about that house?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head to your left. “The huge one on that hill? It’s the opposite direction from the motel and the closest thing-”

“Oh, god, no.” Steve breathes out, shaking his head with determination. “Remember what Robin called it? You do not enter a house called the murder house. Especially when you’re being chased by murderous flesh-eating monsters!”

“It’s pretty much our only choice right now.” You stress, the small hairs on your arm prickling the closer the creature gets. “We run through, slip out the back, and tail it to the motel before it’s-”

If Steve had any objections, you never heard them. All you heard was the terrifying scream rippling from the unhinged jaw of a ghostly woman.

“Run, run!” You yell, already feeling the effects of an ear-splitting pitch.

Steve immediately grabs your hand and you run, blindly trusting the boy you had assumed your enemy for 4 years of your life.

He wasn’t sure if you’d both be able to get inside in time, fully away of the hoard of monsters emerging from the shadows and chasing you down. It was a risky bet, this house. But you were right. It was the only option.

If Steve wasn’t so adamant on moving fast, he might have felt the soft tug of your arm as your body struggles to keep up, the stretch of the hill proving the laws of physics were never your friend. As long as your hand was in his, you were going to be fine.

The harsh creak of rotten floorboards as Steve barrelled into the room echoed menacingly in his ear. He quickly dropped your hand, pulling you behind him and making haste of tugging a tall and heavy cabinet down so it blocked the entrance. It wouldn’t hold forever, but it would give you both enough time to slip out unnoticed.

“That should keep them back, we gotta-”

Steve expected to find your hand as he reached back for you, but the space was bare. He spins around, stomach lurching when he finds you’re already sat against the wall, looking worse every second.

“No.” He drops to his knees and cups your head in his hands when you struggle to keep it up, swallowing his anxiety, “No, hey, sweetheart, hey. Look at me.”

Your weary eyes meet his and his breath hitches. The black veins were now creeping up your cheeks, spreading quicker in the past few hours than they ever had before.

A sudden chorus of thumping snapped his attention, the barricade against the front door almost shattering under the weight of its attackers. It wouldn’t hold much longer. He knew you weren’t in any state to run to the motel, and he had to think fast.

Steve loops his arm around you and pulls you to your feet, muttering a string of apologies as you wince. His eyes catch the bleeding moonlight from above, enticing an idea.

It felt like your whole body was on fire, any movement contracting your muscles to pain until you could nearly faint. But you had to try, you had to move. For him.

He could sense your determination as he moved you both up the staircase, your legs wobbling but making it to the top in a timely fashion. His admiration would have to come later. Right now, he needed you both safe.

The hallway was long and dusty, Steve’s eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He’s unsure where to go next, a lengthy display of doors scattered either side of him as he helps you walk further into the house. Maybe there was another-

A giant crash echoed out in splintered waves, dread flooding his body.

They were here.

Picking the closest door, he drags you both inside and takes care to shut it as quietly as possible, knowing one loud sound could be the end. His nerves were on high alert, struggling to make the life-saving decisions his friends usually expected from him. But the stakes were different this time. There was no one to bail him out if he makes the wrong move, no Nancy or Jonathan to come save the day. It was just him, protecting you.

The door had apparently led to a bedroom, his eyes scanning for a chair or a dresser to block- No. No. That would just make more noise- But what if they got in?

Hide. You need to hide.

Pulling you close to him, he spots a large closet on the other side of the bedroom. That would have to do.

It omitted a soft creak, making him grimace. He carefully lowers you down, noting how you were forcing yourself to breathe in even intervals. You were fighting it as best as you could, and that was all he could ask for.

As he joins you, he manoeuvres you so you were situated between his legs, knowing this would be the only way to ensure you both fit in the small space. His bat is digging into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, his back pressed against the side of the closet as he watches the bedroom door through the crack of light, holding his breath.

He couldn’t hear anything, but that was the scary part. He had hoped to hear the creatures crash through the ground floor and somehow be tricked back outside, relieving his mind with the knowledge he made the right decision.

The space was becoming all too small, even with the door cracked open. And that’s when the fear came creeping in.

What if a demogorgon found you?

What if it tracks your scent, follows the trail up the staircase, opens the third door on the left?

What if it stalks into the room and starts listening closely, hearing his quickened breaths of panic?

What if the last thing Steve saw was the thing ripping open the closet doors, a set of giant claws caging you in, knowing there was no escape?

What if you both died in here?

He exhales a long breath, fading back into reality when he feels something gently squeeze his hand. Your hand. You had intertwined your fingers with his, head laying back against hisshoulder, sensing his anxiety.

Steve had known he was claustrophobic for a while now. As a little kid, he remembers when he and his friends would play in the woods, a hollowed tree trunk on the ground marking the final destination of their adventure. That was the first time he felt fear, he thinks, curled up halfway through the tight space as his shirt was caught on protruding bark. He remembers his friends laughing and leaving to go find his parents when it became all too serious, assuming they had abandoned him there.

The tunnels were far worse than his 7 year old self’s nightmares. When the demodogs came barrelling towards them, his sudden realisation that he would be dragged back into those tunnels and left for dead, he had never felt so hopeless. He couldn’t even fight, not really. He could only attempt to shield Dustin with his body, and pray they made his death quick.

He never really knew how to get himself out of these situations. His parents had enticed him out with harsh words and false promises, eventually dragging him out by his arms when his mind couldn’t stop imagining the tree collapsing in on him. The demodogs hadn’t attacked in the end, sparing them with pure luck and giving him no time to reflect on his darker thoughts, the kids needing him more than he needed closure from himself.

But one single touch of your hand changed everything. No words, no rush. Just a reminder he was still here. And you were here with him.

He felt your body tense the moment the floorboards out on the hallway creak, just quiet enough to let him know the creature was trying to be silent. Something was looking for you.

The virus had taken its toll on you, the past few minutes of your life flashing by in a blur. You don’t even remember climbing into the closet, waiting in suspenseful agony for a sign that the coast was clear. But all of a sudden, you had finally returned to reality, feeling Steve’s erratic heartbeat on your back.

You almost flinched when you heard something bang against the bedroom door. It was sudden, ricocheting an echo of vibration through the floor. And then it was complete and utter silence.

You must have been shaking because Steve holds you closer, forcing you to take a few quiet breaths. You’d be okay. It will be okay.

Another sharp crash blares out, but it’s further this time. Whatever it was outside of that door was leaving, finally. But that didn’t stop you both from sitting there for a little while longer, afraid to move from the safety of the wooden walls.

It was you who made the first move to leave, shifting in his arms and pointing to the door. You had caught your breath now, shaking away the virus’ side effects with strength Steve could only respect.

Steve pushes the closet door open and you are finally back on your feet, offering a hand to pull him up with you.

“That was close.” He breathes out with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his hair. He retrieves his bat from the wardrobe and turns around to see you’re stood still with a guilty expression on your face.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper out, shaking your head. “We could’ve- it’s my fault.”

“What? No.” He crosses the room and pulls you into a hug, one you definitely needed. “No, it’s not your fault. None of this is.”

After a moment, he pulls away, sucking in a breath. “Now let’s get the hell out of here because this place is giving me the creeps.”

You nodded to his words, shivering as you observed the room you stood in. It looked like a master bedroom, possibly decorated for a couple to reside in. Everything was either covered in dust or cobwebs, a pang of sadness hitting your chest.

You knew the rumours of this place; a man going crazy and killing his entire family, their ghosts now haunting the place ready to collect more victims. But right now, you didn’t feel haunted.

A family had died here, the home clearly decorated with care and love from the people who never got a chance to live in it. And it has just been left like this, to wither and rot away.

Steve poked his head out of the door and listened out, making sure you weren’t just walking into a trap. He did the same as he leaned over the banister, clocking the wide open front door, now adorned in malicious claw marks.

“Fastest route?” He asks as you join him at the back of the house, squinting into the horizon.

There were only two options; along the road and out in the open, or through the woods with little to no light. You tried to think back to when you originally thought of the plan, retracing your steps.

“I’m thinking, uh…” Your voice suddenly cuts off and you turn to stare at him, a hint of a smirk on your lips. Steve frowns. “Do I remember you calling me sweetheart earlier?”

Heat rushes to Steve’s cheeks. “What? No. That would be weird. I don’t have a pet name for you. Or any name, actually. Other than your actual name. Maybe ‘asshole’. Not- not sweetheart- right, we’re cutting through the woods this way.”

He marches off before he becomes any more of a mess than he already is, hearing your laughter as it trails behind him.

“So… where the hell is this mysterious gate maker gonna be?”

You were both stood in the parking lot of Motel 6, eyes scanning each room as if a source of light would illuminate the monster you were hunting. If your theory was right, and it was all originating from here… how long has it been right under your noses?

“Maybe it’s like the gates.” You offer, shrugging. “What did Dustin say? In the heart, or something. The middle.”

“I hope not.” Steve states and you turn to where he was suggesting.

The heart of the hotel wouldn’t be one of the rooms, nor the office. And you had a suspicion Steve had thought correctly.

The basement.

Staring down at those two daunting metal doors, you feel your skin prickle. You take a glance over your shoulder, frowning.

In all three weeks you’ve been down here, you’ve never encountered a single monster at the motel. It had been a last minute resort for safety, ensuring you weren’t followed, picking room 303 as if it mattered. You were pretty good at sneaking around the place, but you never realised how truly odd it was that no monster ever followed you.

Maybe that answer was waiting for you behind those basement doors.

“Wait,” Steve gently places a hand on your waist as you move towards it, staring down with brown eyes of deep concern. “Are we sure we really wanna do this?”

“There isn’t another choice.” You say, yet you were still hesitant as you walked up to the doors, forcing each step you took.

No locks, no obstacles. Just a pair of metallic blocks on hinges. That felt worse somehow.

“If I had a nickel for every time I had to go down into a cellar to look for a monster…” Steve sighs to himself, catching your curious look. “Uh, I’d only have, like, two. But still. That’s two more than I should have.”

You can only nod in agreement, your breath caught in your throat.

Are we sure we really wanna do this?

The unsatisfying creak of metal echoes across the parking lot, Steve letting out a low whistle as he stares down into darkness.

“I’m sure this won’t be creepy at all.” He comments, taking the first step down before you had the chance. You’ve noticed that about him, always the first to enter an unknown room. A protector.

Light bleeds through a small window on the other side of the cellar. There was more space than you were expecting, but the strangest part was the fact there was nothing in here. Like it had never been used to store anything.

“It’s empty.” You announce, stood dumbfounded in the middle of the room.

“Maybe the landlord kicked it out.�� Steve shrugs, silently relieved. He catches your fallen expression and places a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’ll find another way.”

And then the basement doors swing shut, the sound rattling through the dark cellar at an alarming pitch.

“Shit!”

Steve drops his bat and rushes back up the steps to push against the metal doors. Nothing. He drives his shoulder into it. It doesn’t budge.

“How is it locked?!” He grunts, giving it one last try before backing away, shaking his head. “There wasn’t any lock on it!”

Your stomach drops.

You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.

The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.

Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.

It didn’t budge.

You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.

“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”

“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

It was all happening again.

You had just walked into another trap.

“It’s here.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Steve is on high alert, frantically looking around the basement. But it’s still empty.

“Nothing is here, Y/n.” He frowns.

“Not on this side.” You gasp when something suddenly echoes in your ear. You look at Steve, startled, but he doesn’t share the same expression.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”

You start moving around, trying to find a spot to make the incomprehensible whispers clearer. Steve’s heart is pounding louder.

“It’s that voice again.” You mutter to yourself.

“Voice? Y/n, you’re scaring me.” Steve manages to catch you for a split second, and you meet his eyes. His face drops.

The veins were creeping up your face, laying just beneath your eyes. He places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up.

“Y/n, you don’t look so good.”

“It has to be here.” You shake your head out of his hold, stepping back. “The map- it has to be here!”

And then you hear it again, the voice. Except, this time, it’s so much clearer.

“Tell her”

You suddenly stop, letting out a gasp and Steve’s anxiety is sky-rocketing. You were both trapped inside this basement with something he couldn’t see.

He tries the doors again, thumping his fist against it like it would dislodge something. Nothing. Glancing over his shoulder, he clocks the window. Maybe…

Steve sprints over, dropping the bag off his shoulder and onto the floor beside him as he fumbles around for some kind of latch. Something rattles and he smiles. Bingo.

“Hey, we can get out through the window. Wasn’t rocket science, but I’m still a genius.”

He turns back to look at you over his shoulder, smiling. You’re currently near the far corner, your back facing him. You don’t seem to have heard him, breathing in odd intervals as you stare down at your hands.

“Y/n.” He tries again, louder. Your head twitches. Steve releases the latch on the window, fear flooding his entire body.

That same familiar feeling starts twisting in his gut, the same he always had when something is really really wrong. He never ignored it, never wanted to, because it was always right. But he didn’t want to believe it this time.

He slowly steps away from the window, his eyes permanently glued to the back of your head, feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

Trying again, his voice cracks under the pressure of speaking your name like it would warp the vicious reality he was living in.

“Y/n?”

You snap your head to him, and the colour drains from his face.

“No…”

He lost you.

The world bled to grey as tears start trailing from his eyes, staring into yours. Except, they weren’t yours. They were darker, soulless. Black blood was dripping from your chin, staining your lips.

Lips he had once kissed.

Lips he would never kiss again.

“Don’t do this.” He begs, unable to find the force to speak louder than a whisper. “Y/n, please. It’s not- I can’t hurt you. You know I can’t hurt you. Y/n...”

You snarled at him this time, your mannerisms unnerving. It wasn’t you anymore.

His eyes slowly drift to his bat, making him clench his jaw. It was closer to you than it was to him. He wouldn’t be able to reach it in time.

But he knew he wasn’t completely defenceless. He just wasn’t sure if he had the strength to use it.

You suddenly lunge at him and he instinctively dives for his bag, rolling away from your attack in the last second. He unzips it, staring down. He couldn’t do this.

Snarls and hisses spit from your mouth as you scramble up from the floor, blinking rapidly as you search in the dark.

Click.

Your whole body snaps to him in one sharp movement.

With a shaking hand, he stares directly into your eyes.

“Y/n, please.” He sobs, “Please, you have to be in there.”

Not even the mournful pressure against his chest felt as heavy as the gun in his hand, tears rolling down his face.

It was your idea to take a pistol from the cabin, knowing you couldn’t use it unless it was in moments of emergency, afraid the rippling sound of the bullet would alert every monster in the town. You both swore you’d never have to use it.

And here he was, pointing it directly at your head.

“Steve?” Your small voice prickles his hearing and he moves his gaze from your hands to your eyes, darting between the pupils in silent study. “If I… if it-”

“No.” He immediately shakes his head and you could almost sob. For what felt like days, you’ve been trying to have this conversation with him, but he always shuts it down, pretending like it wasn’t needed.

“You need to listen-”

“I am not killing you.” He says with conviction, and he feels your fingers slip out of his reach. “That’s not happening, Y/n, you can’t expect me to-”

“And what then?” You cry, standing taller, making his head crane to look up at you as you wrap your arms around your torso. “You’re just gonna watch me turn into a monster and let me stay that way?!”

“This isn’t just some sort of favour you’re asking for!” He frowns, shaking his head. “You want me to kill you. To end your life!”

He knew this was coming. You knew this was coming. You’ve been trying to warn him for weeks now, pleading to him. And he never listened. He never wanted to.

Three weeks ago, Steve would have shot you in that school hallway if you had turned after the bite, the memory bitter but his heart still intact.

Three weeks later, Steve would rather shoot himself then live with the memory of putting a bullet between the eyes of the girl he was in love with.

It can’t end like this. It can’t.

“It’s me.” He tries again, hoping his voice could break you free from the virus. “It’s me. Steve. Remember?”

He should have known hope was never his friend.

A voice completely alien to you rips out a screech from your throat, and hell comes to bludgeon him with the worst it had to offer.

Steve watches in horror as the skin starts peeling from your face, tearing it into pieces like a flower and its petals.

Like a demogorgon.

It was too late. You weren’t coming back to him.

You run at him, sharp teeth bared, mind forever gone.

Steve’s eyes shut…

… and he pulls the trigger.

“STEVE!”

Your throat was sore from relentless screaming, sobbing with your entire chest.

Steve had rushed over to the window just after you heard that voice. You had turned your back on him, distracted by what you thought was a shadow hiding in the walls.

You heard him call your name. But when you turned around…

His eyes were rolled back, stood deathly still.

“Steve! Wake up!” You keep trying to shake him out of his trance, watching as a trail of red bleeds from his nose. “No! No, wake up! Steve!”

More and more whispers echo around you, building up until all you heard were the same repeated words.

“What do you want?!” You scream into the dark, cheeks stained with relentless tears. Steve was dying, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

In a desperate attempt for help, you crouch down by the window and start rifling through his bag, batting the gun to the side to grab the radio.

“Hello?! Is anyone there?! Please!!”

You cry out in frustration when all that responds is the piercing static.

“That won’t help you.”

The radio slips from your hand in shock, clattering against the concrete as your wide eyes fixate on the image in the corner.

Something was forming from the shadows, pulling together pieces of the dark like it was dust. Your body floods with ice. The basement had never been dark. You were just surrounded by the same black dust that haunted every single nightmare.

Your shaking hands swipe the bat from the ground and grip it tight, shielding Steve’s body with your own. You hear his breaths become shallower.

“You were never meant to find me.” It spoke in a dark voice, fading in and out like a weak connection.

A gasp slips from your mouth when the particles build its final form. A silhouette of a man, featureless yet distinctive. Of all the creations you had envisioned, you didn’t expect the monster to be so… human.

A man.

“What do you want?!” You yell at it, raising the bat like it would scare it away.

“I tried time and time again to get you to understand.” He spoke, drifting closer to you. “I gave you the future. Visions. A simple task.”

Something like a sob escapes Steve’s lips and you whip your head to him, feeling completely and utterly helpless. You weren’t going to defeat the monster like you said you would. And now you were going to watch him die, knowing you were the only reason he was down here with you.

“It was the only way to make sure you listened.”

You turn back to the monster, a scowl twisting onto your face.

“Let him go.” You warn, but you knew your threat was meaningless.

“You have no power here.” He states, and you could almost feel the shadow smiling at you with malicious intent. “I make the rules.”

Goosebumps return to their path along your skin, trailing up your arms and prickling at your neck, making you shiver.

“I will let him go… Once you carry out one important task.” He nods, closer once again. You shift your body protectively in front of Steve, holding your breath.

“What…” You blink away tears, feeling suffocated by his presence.

You understood why the other monsters were so afraid of the dark.

Your arms didn’t feel attached to your body when they suddenly start to lower themselves, a shadowed hand reaching for your face.

“Bring me the girl.”

You frown, shaking your head. Girl?

As if he heard your thoughts, he leans close to you, speaking one word.

“Eleven.”

“El?” You gasp, and he steps away from you, observing. “Why- what do you want with her?”

“Bring her to me, and I will let him go.” The figure doesn’t answer your question, tilting its head. “Once you leave this place, you’ll find her, and you’ll bring her to me. That is all I want.”

“And if I don’t?” You raise your chin, regaining the feeling in your arms.

He slowly raises his hand, pointing it to the boy behind you. At first, nothing happened. And then you watch in despair as Steve’s body starts to slowly lift from the ground, a strained yell of pain.

“Stop!” You beg, and the shadow obeys, Steve’s feet touching the ground.

One little action and it was so simple it was terrifying. If you don’t bring El to him, he’ll kill Steve.

This monster knew you. It had been following you around since the dust you encountered, observing the things that made you tick, the things you loved, hated, needed. He knew exactly what would make you listen to him.

He was the Voice that had been haunting you for weeks.

You look back at Steve, almost crying out when you notice he’s lost more blood in the time you’ve taken to decide. You couldn’t do that to El.

But you also couldn’t watch Steve die.

“Fine.” You sob, nodding. “Just let him go.”

“You’ll know where to find me”

And then the shadow is thrown back into the darkness, hitting a wall and sinking back into it, dispersing the dust in scattered patterns on the surface.

Steve gasps behind you, and you spin around to catch him as he stumbles forward.

“Steve!” You cry in relief, wrapping your arms around him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Y/n?” He sounds surprised, almost sad, observing every little detail of you as if he couldn’t decide if you were real. “Wait, you’re… what happened?”

“I-”

You try to reply when a loud hum starts building behind you, your attention needed elsewhere.

The middle of the wall starts to burn away, splitting apart and blackening at the edges. The humming only became louder, a dark red hue casting your shadows.

The Voice was creating a gate. For you. To pawn your sister’s life for Steve’s. Once you stepped through it, you’d be signing a death warrant.

If you stepped through it.

“What the fuck is happening…” Steve blinks at the gate, aware of the tightened grip your hand had on his.

In his vision, he had shot you. He had committed the most unspeakable act he had time and time again refused. The worst part of it, was he thought it was real. He made that decision.

But it was all a lie, and you were here, holding his hand with a look on your face he couldn’t decipher.

“You have to go.” You say to him, your words hazy to his ears. He still wasn’t entirely sure he was back in reality, struggling to make sense of the walls around him. “Steve, listen to me. You have to go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, trying to focus. “What about… what about you?”

A booming chorus of thumps against metal suddenly arose from the basement doors. Your stomach dropped.

The creatures weren’t afraid of the dark anymore.

When the gate had spread into a human-sized portal, you start pushing Steve towards it. His sneakers were just touching the edge before he realised what was happening.

“Hey, hey! No!” He stops, and you’re not strong enough to overpower him.

“Steve, you have to go! They’re gonna break through any minute!” You cry, watching the ever-growing dents in the metal above the staircase. “Please, you have to go!”

“I’m not leaving you, Y/n!”

“It’s already too late.” You sob, wiping away your tears. Tears that felt hot, burning against your skin.

The skin littered with black veins.

“I’m gonna turn any minute now.” You place your hands on his cheeks, making sure he was listening to your every word. “And I don’t want my last memory to be crossing back into our home knowing I won’t make it 5 steps before the virus kills me. Okay? So, you’re gonna go through the gate and you’re not ever gonna look back. Please. Don’t come back for me.”

“I can’t-” He cries and you bring his forehead down to rest on yours, nodding.

“I know.” You whisper, leaning forward to leave a feather-light kiss on his lips.

His eyes are still closed when you pull back, studying him one last time.

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes snap open just in time to watch your hands find his chest and shove him as hard as you can, his body ripping through the gate faster than he can experience.

His back hits solid concrete, making him groan. It takes a second for him to blink away the dots in his vision, slowly sitting up. He can see your figure clearly, your sad eyes, the smile gracing your lips.

And then the gate starts to sew itself shut.

Steve scrambles to his feet, tugging at the dangling pieces of membrane to try and stop the process.

“Y/n!” He yells at you, the unwelcome fear striking his nerves when he hears a loud crash from the other side.

Judging by the look on your face, it was exactly what he thought it was.

“No! No! Y/n!”

The gate is getting smaller, but his screams are only getting louder, fingers desperately trying to pry it open like a set of doors. But it was useless.

He can just make out a rush of silhouettes, your retreating form.

And then he was clawing at a concrete wall, body shaking with the intensity of his tears.

“No, no, no, no!” He yells in rage, his fingers scraped and bloodied.

For the last three weeks, all he wanted was to be on the other side. And now he was here, without you, it felt worse than hell.

He barely heard the creak of metal doors open behind him, or even saw his shadow suddenly cast onto the space he lost you forever.

Steve didn’t notice anything until a voice calls out behind him, causing him to turn and squint against the beaming light.

“Steve?” Hopper frowns, squinting. “Steve.”

He rushes down those steps and drops the flashlight, both hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Hey, kid, you alright?” He asks, but Steve can barely speak. “Kid, look at me.”

Steve looked at him, a torn and broken version of the boy Hopper had seen last. He can feel Hopper’s hands tighten, a look of horror clouding his eyes.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Don’t forget me, you had said to him. A bittersweet promise of a memory.

Steve wasn’t ready to make you a memory.

“She’s still back there.” He finally said, swallowing the bitter lie that was about to coat his tongue. “We got separated.”

He lowered his eyes, unable to look at him, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at his chest. It was cruel, to lie to a father so desperate to get his daughter back. But he was afraid the truth would show you were like your father in more ways than one.

Steve needed to do this. No matter the consequences.

“She wants us to find her.” He finally says, nodding. “She wants us to bring her back.”

To be continued...

[A/N: GOH will return for yet another installment! I'm separating the story into parts so I can trick my stupid brain that only gives me writers block into thinking it's only a short story. I honestly plan for this to last forever. Or at least until I run out of ideas lmao.]

taglist:

@toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #apocalypse au

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neonovember · 1 year

Text

Just like Business

Steve rogers mafia!au

summary: with the fate of the underworld on your shoulders, your attempt to keep a low profile fails and instead, you make a deal with the king of Brooklyn himself.

warnings: violence, regular smugular mob talk, mentions of domestic violence

a/n: sorry it took so long for chapter 3 to come out, school has been up my ass lately and I lost half my draft. (I’ve also changed Diore’s name to Clementine because I'm playing twd)

The taste of stale wood catches on your tongue as you nervously chew on the end of your pencil, the Diner is slow today, and you've found yourself in the corner of the kitchen, tenuous forms spread out in front of you. The slowed trickle of patrons coming through the familiar jingle of the doors gave you enough time to fill those papers out before the seats do.

Knees to your chest, you ponder over what to write on the clearly dotted line named “Next Of Kin”. You watch as a man dribbles coffee down his white shirt, failing to catch the drops with a damp napkin as your mind remains a blank deserted canvas. Truth be told you didn’t have anyone you could call in an emergency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, even more so than the pencil between your teeth.

Clem was spending her allotted days off with her niece, mentioning how her erratic sister had dropped her off last night. You understood complicated families more than anything, it was what you lived and breathed for the better part of your adult life, but it meant the hours at work would drag on even further. Clementine was able to keep your mind off of everything, your escape, your husband, that man, that goddamn number. Your entire life was a scattered map of holes and ink spills, and it seems to follow you even on this side of Brooklyn, where eyes were always trained on your own shoes and you learned to keep to yourself.

Any other day you would have called in sick, without Clementine to help push the metaphorical hand to tick past your 9-hour shift. But you couldn’t bare the thought of remaining in that 3-foot room isolated and just waiting to be attacked. Your mental state was as fragile as ever, and you felt even the slightest scare would send you spiralling.

The target on your back grew bigger and bigger each day that went by with the threat of that man’s promise looming over your head. The crumpled napkin remained on your bedside table since that night, and you made no move to initiate the call. His patience was wearing thin, this you knew, but you didn’t have the guts, even now, to face the reality of what you had done.

Leaving the line blank you quickly fill the rest of the form, trying to tear your mind from thinking too hard at the prospect of having no one to rely on. All that was on your mind at the moment was the prospect of a dry winter, with a heater that worked and walls that weren't covered in mould. You hope the council would take your concerns seriously now that you had gained some stability, even as small as it was.

The jingle of the doors finally dragged you from your crouched position, collecting your papers you quickly shoved them under the counter before brushing away any creases on your apron.

The figure had seated themselves towards the end of the diner booths, away from any clear windows where they could be easily seen. Grabbing a menu you made your way past the many vacant booths before finally reaching their table.

It was a man, fairly built, with dark black hair moused from the light shower outside, he wore a deep maroon coat eerily similar to the man from earlier that week. He had deep grey eyes which would have been overshadowed by the curls of his hair falling in front of his eyes if they weren't so intense. His features were distinctly masculine, outlined by a sharp jaw that was littered with stubble, and his arms were outstretched across the booth's couches.

Transfixed by his features you had almost forgotten the menu between your fingers which was scarily close to slipping, he cleared his throat expectantly and you quickly placed the menu on the table.

“You got a staring problem or somthin?” The deep Brooklyn accent drew out as he enanuctaited his words, a smirk breaking through his stoic features but not quite reaching his eyes.

You swallowed thickly, looking down and attempting to avoid his grey orbs which seemed to remain at your face, he had a look like he was dissecting you, cutting you apart and looking into your soul.

“No-, No of course not, sorry. Uh, what would you like?” You choked out quickly, and you gripped your apron as he took notice of your apprehension. he could smell your fear, you could feel it.

He chuckles audibly, the sound sort of muffled behind it’s falsity. A relaxed expresiones seemed to ease the calculating look on his face just moments ago, as if he’s come to a conclusion.

“Your ma never taught you some manners?” He continues, this time however, his eyes are trained on the menu items, seeming to peruse through them thoroughly.

Your mother.

The thought of her and any expectant of motherly duties made you audibly laugh, causing the man to look up, eyebrows quirking at the chuckle leaving your mouth.

You cough quickly, attempting to hide your sudden outburst. It was just, there were a lot of words you could call that person, but a mother? That certainly wasn’t one of them.

You’d soon see hell freeze over before she’s ever act like a mother towards you, whilst your friends and classmates were taught how to braid their hair, or tie their shoes, or ride a bike, your mother, she, was out in the alleyways and prisms of her addiction.

You’d need a pick axe to get through the stone face she morphed into each time she walked through your childhood home. She wasn’t absent, always somewhere, she was just expression less. Like you’d drawn her with a broke crayon and coloured her outside the lines.

Shaking yourself from your past, the man’s eyes are fixed on you, confusion swirling through those grey orbs, before his lips lifted in a small smile.

Why did he look almost apologetic? You already had one strange man after you, did this god want to grant you with another?

“Coffee, black”. Said the man, folding the menu closed that was opened on desserts of the day.

You nodded, taking the menu from his grasp, before turning back towards the kitchen, the squeak of your trainers against the linemen floor.

Funny, he looked through the entire menu only to order a plain coffee, black at that. You’d hardly seen that order in a while, the iced latte-frappe-mocha obsession had taken over even the tiny diners like this one.

Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.

Making you way back to the kitchen, you quickly begin making his coffee. You weren’t particularly specialised at the art of making coffees, however his order seemed fairly straightforward.

Plus without Clem on today the diner was even more short staffed, and completing multiple jobs was expected.

Mind miles away, you almost spill the coffee grounds as you tamp them into the portafilter, attempting to replicate the steps you’ve seen Clementine do a thousand times.

Setting the espresso machine to brew, your able to shift your eyes towards the man in the corner, who’s now pulled out a silver phone and seemed to be in a heated conversation.

You knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop but god your brain would explode if you kept at this repeative mundanity of watching cars splash water violently against the diners windows.

You catch a couple words being exchanged, as the man roughly pushes his strands back into the low bun sitting low on his head.

“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,

“She don’t look like it that’s for sure”

“Robinson waiting on a package so I can’t stay long-, okay yeah, yeah I hear you, ya big head, don’t need to yell damn.” Mumbled the man exasperated.

He muffled his words into the cellphone as if he could tell you were eavesdropping and you quickly look away when you see him shift in his seat.

The espresso beeped as you pull the shot from under the machine, pouring it into a mug as you add 2 heaped teaspoons of sugar.

Stirring slowly you chance a glance from under hooded eyes, and expecting his broad shoulder and back towards you, instead his turned his shoulder, eyes staring directly toward you.

Taken back you shift your eyes back to the mug, fingers gripping the teaspoon tight as a attempt to pretend that he hasn’t unnerved

It seems to fail as the next time you look up his grinning, phone still pressed to his ear as he nods along with whatever they’re saying.

You question whether to bring it to him, the coffee, and just ask one of your other co workers, but you’ve already gone this far. Waitressing practically came with the packaged deal of sleazy men who couldn’t take a hint, it was depressing but you’ve gotten used to people disregarding your boundaries. You wouldn’t let some creepy yet incredibly attractive man scare you away from doing your job.

Appearing at the booth in almost an instant you place the ceramic mug infront of him. Murmuring his coffee, and not letting a second past before you attempt to escape, shoes squeaking at your hurry.

“Excuse me, Mrs” The man’s Brooklyn draw calls you however, the politeness falling from his red lips before he can help it. You freeze under the formality, fingernails digging into your palms.

Mrs? Mrs. You almost forgot that you were still a married women, it was something you kept hidden for a reason, the encrusted ring was hopefully rotting at the bottom of the hudsen.

And that was it, here, in Brooklyn, no one, no one knew you were with someone much less married, and yet this random man, who wasn’t quite a stranger knew. Hell he called you Mrs loud enough for the entire diner to hear.

To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.

“Would you prefer ma’am, I hardly know these days” Chuckled the man unfazed by your trepidation, this was a sick game to him.

“How about you sit down and have a chat with me? Just 5 minutes of your time, all I’m asking” The man sing songs, acting as if he were pleading with you, however you noticed the demand laced under his tone. You understood a demand when you heard it.

Your back is still towards him, and your eyes shift to the diner door to the right, and, just as quickly the man reminds you of his loyalty.

“Look doll, I don’t wanna have to go to more extreme measures to find you again, so just sit down here with me before we both do something we regret” The man really pleads this time, he seems exhausted, like he really did look under every hole in New York.

You are are still fixated on the diner door, the paint chipping from its sides, and a dirty brown appearing at the foot of it from the rain coming through the sewers and onto the footpaths. You gulp down the crawling bile rising from your stomach before slowly turning around, each step causing a small breathe to escape from your chest.

You slide into the booth just as the man reaches for his cup, sipping it slowly as he eyes to intensely.

“Atta girl, now was that so hard?” He finally replies, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Your hands, you don’t know what to do with them, they’ve begun to dig painfully into your palm and you quickly shove them under the table when they begin to shake.

The man watches them carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t expect you to be so goddamn meek and weak.

God. You’re so fucking weak it’s pitiful

“Look, I’m not going to keep you long, alright? I personally don’t like dragging out a girl like this but orders are orders ya know?” The man rambles, not waiting for you to answer him before he continues.

His eyes shift back and forth, down the diner aisles and across the vacant seats, he leans in, and from a distance it looks as if you two are both lovers on a night out. Huddled against each other from the harsh downpour outside and warmed the the love in the air and the longing in your eyes. The soft glow of the ceiling above casting a eerie romantic feel similar to days before.

“He knows your avoiding him, and in all honesty, this is the longest his gone before going out himself and getting what he wants” The man replies, dark greys watching your slumped posture against the booth coaches.

You’d hoped he’d just given up, the hours going by as you waited for your doors to come slamming down but it never did. It was stupid, you knew this, you didn’t get lucky in this world, but a small part of you had hoped so hard that he just saw you for what you always were; ordinary. Mundane and colloquial, the blurry face in a crowd, the person you always forgot and the name you never quite remembered.

You chest cave in at the truth of the reality you were forced into, you didn’t even care at this point, as your exhausted body rested against the booth, fingers rubbing your tired eyelids.

“What does he even want with me? I don’t know who you are, but you look like your smart enough to know how utterly useless I would be to whatever plan hes drawn up”. You reply

“I don’t even know anything about..about..that world!” you gulp as he looks towards you expectantly. You don’t even know what to call it, the underworld? The mafia? Criminal organisations? Which one would least likely get you killed?

“He kept me out of pretty much all of it, okay? He never let me enter even parts of the house to keep me ignorant and obedient. Couldn’t let the wife know about the 17 year old boy I tossed into the sewers right? Isn’t that what you men do?” You reply heated, spitting the accusation in disgust.

Your words don’t faze the man, and it’s then down you consider what he must’ve already heard and seen a hundred times, this was normal to them, this was life to them, this was making a black coffee to them.

“His not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your scared o-“ The man says, and you cut him off quickly

“Oh trust me, getting hurt is the least of my worries, I’ve gotten a lot of practice” You laugh morbidly, as he looks at you strangely, his eyes peek at the healing bruises on your arm and you tough your sweater down self consciously.

“I don’t doubt it, Matthews is ruthless, and I’ve got to hand it to you, your a real fucking smart one for being able to escape him of all people. But let’s me realistic here, you and i both know what this world is like, sure you’ve made it out, but how long do you really thing you’ll be able to be ahead, to keep up with this on the run shit?” The man reasons, adding more sugar packets to his coffee, before stirring it slowly.

You remain silent as you take in his reasoning, he’s not wrong, soon or later you’d burn out and do something stupid and get caught. You were born in the suburbs for fucks sake, you weren’t some Russian spy.

“All I’m saying is that Matthews is pretty fucking powerful, the type of power where he can get your friends and boss here to offer you up to him on a silver plate. There’s no loyalty when you’re living pay check my pay check, or when you’ve got to put food on the table. The only loyalty then is one written in blood, or bank checks” The man says, winking at the last part.

“We can help, keep him off your scent for a while, until you can get out of here at least” the man says gesturing around the diner and the City itself.

That was the ultimate plan though wasn’t it? To get out of America? Maybe move to a tropical climate where your skin met the warm sun instead of bloody fists. Something was keeping you here, and you spent years trying to understand what.

“By protection you mean surveillance that goes over every single human boundary ever created” You grumbled hands now crossed against your chest.

The man nods honestly,

“More or less, at least then you’ll get some sleep” The man replies, pointing out the bags hanging under your eyes.

“Well how am I supposed to do that when I’ve got him watching me every single minute of the day” You snap, before your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t meant to get angry, least of all at the man who probably has a pistol between in his waistband.

You wait for the man to scream, to feel his rough fingers around your throat, or the bruising force of his fists. It never comes, instead he laughs, fucking laughs.

It’s authentic, the way the baritone sounds leaves his chest ceremoniously, a hand gripping his chest and his curls fall in front of his face at his movements.

It’s beautiful and from the moment it leaves his mouth you love it. But he laughs, the most innocent thing in the entire world and you flinch. You fucking flinch.

You already know he notices it as he stops his chuckles, hands coming to press against his brows, and running down his scalp to brush his strands back.

“He’s coming, later on, to pick you up and take you back to your apartment, don’t fight me on it or else it’s my ass on the line” The man finalises, before reaching out with an expectant hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you..?” He says expectantly

You mumble your name tiredly and you grip his hand, shaking it.

“Bucky” The man’s nods, before getting up from the booth.

“Your got to be something to have Steve acting like this, and for your sake, youd better hope it’s fucking spectacular” The man says, before shelving over a couple dollar bills.

“Keep the change” The man calls before exiting through the diner doors, engulfed by the darkness cloud of fog and rain, the cool city air escaping into the warm diner behind him.

You look down at the coffee mug sitting like warm across from you, still filled to the brim and left un drunken, the only indication of his presence.

You sigh as you get up from your seated the position, the booth warm from your time spent talking. You look towards the clock, signalling you’ve spent well over 30 minutes with the man, and you turn to expect your manager tumbling down the isles to find you and demand answers to your absence.

But instead, her head is down, the deep auburn braids peeking from under the counter. Weird, she’s never not taken up the chance to berate your very presence, and instead she’a jotting down inventory records.

You don’t want to believe it but you know it’s connected to the man that was just here moments ago, or more specifically the man from earlier this week.

Collecting the bills left on the table, you place them into the cash register, before going to clear away his plates. This was going to be a long night.

You try not to notice the headlights shining through the blinds of the diner windows, or even the roar of an engine pulling up onto the front of the restaurant as you jot down the last of the young man’s order.

You were just about to close when a group of drunken but good natured college boys walked, or more like stumbled in.

You weren’t mad in any way, at least it gave your mind something to occupy itself with instead of conversation between you and Bucky from earlier.

Yelling the orders at Daniel, his brown hair bobbing to his stereo, your met with his thumbs up popping out of the bustling kitchen. You giggle to yourself at his antics, if you had to rely on one thing of normalcy in your life it was Daniel.

The familiar jingle of the diner door has you bristling, the note of between your hands crinkle as your hands grip them anxiously. You don’t know why your scared, it isn’t like you hadn’t been warned.

The man loud steps seem to purposeful against the floor of the crumbling diner, he’s incredibly out of place against the old fashioned terriselss and red and white booths. Even the drunken crows notices him, eyes surveying his expensive coat and shiny boots, before quickly looking away as the catch glimpses of his rings and blond tussles.

You pretend to occupy yourself with refilling straw and napkin dispensers, wiping down the tables that were already shining and keeping your head and most importantly your eyes, away from the tall brooding man.

You catch the front of his dress shoes pointed towards your crouched frame over the diner table. He clears his throat loudly when he notices you make no move to acknowledge his present.

“You’re a tough girl to catch aren’t you?” Is the first thing the man says in that deep gruff voice of his. His words seem sweetened like he’s said them behind a smile.

“No, not at all, I’m just..busy” You reply, leaning over further to wipe the cloth against the sides of the booth.

Steve hums, hands stuffed into his suit pants as he watches you carefully

“You sure? From where I’m at it seems like you’re..avoiding me” Steve says

“Well it’s kind of hard to get the courage to phone up a likley criminal mastermind that probably has connections to my husband and who would undoubtedly deliver me to him if given the right number.” You reply hastily.

Steve moves quickly to catch your hands, stopping your movements as he turns you towards his towering figure looming over you.

“I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you have to trust me” Steve says, a strange look you can’t place takes over his features, the frost behind his blues melt a little and his jaw relaxes before it leaves just as quickly. A hardened expression resting on his face again, and Steve drops your hands, where they rest folded at your stomach.

“How can I?, I’m sorry but I don’t even know you, and if I let another man take me, I’ll, I won’t ever forgive myself” You bristle.

Steve looks far off, blue orbs darkening at your candor as he watches the lights of cars flash against the frosted windows.

“Just let me help you, I’m sure Bucky told you why I’m here, and I’ve gone to lengths I can’t even mention to even speak to you” Steve says

“Why? I’m not special, I just don’t understand why someone like you would do with the likes of me” You reply exasperated, flinching as a David calls the order out.

“I have my reasons, reasons I can’t say right now but can only be explained if you let me take you home” Steve murmurs, you noticed a concerned look take over his features for a second, before the seriousness of this “deal” remains.

“And only if I accept your help” You say, you knew this world through and through, everything had a “but” and a catch. This wouldn’t be any different, would it?

Steve nods honestly, and you turn to throw the dirty wash cloth into the basin behind the counter.

“ I ain’t got long doll, let’s get going” Steve replies impatiently, you understood from your conversation with Bucky earlier that Steve was a man that always got what he wanted. There was little room for negotiation with the blond but you would be damned to make Daniel walk the plate he’d just slaved over to the crowd of huddled 21 year olds.

“Let me finish this order will you? If I’m getting into an unmarked vehicle to lead to my possible death, atleast let me get some good tips” You reply, and for the first time, Steve looks anywhere but you, noticing the huddle of hungry and slightly sober boys.

“Okay, okay” Steve replies acting defeated, as he sits on a barstool across from the counter. Eyes watching your mundane movements of service and food handling, and yet no saying a single word.

You juggle multiple plates, brushing off Steve’s attempts to help and successfully deliver them to the patrons, who gleefully thank you loudly. Slurring praises of Jesus, and Hallelujah, as they shovel waffles and fried chicken into their mouths.

Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.

Steve doesn’t let you clear their plates as he stands expectantly, you catch his eyes blaring into your manager from the corner of your peripheral. His face hardens into something like stone, and it’s as if his exchanged something without saying a word.

Your manager nods, walking back into the office, your bag is waiting for you on the counter and you reach for it before Steve is grabbing it instead. A hand coming up to silence your protests.

You follow his foot steps without a word, eyes looking back at your manager who’s staring right at you, a grim look on a face that screams pity. Like watching a lamb being carried to the slaughter, or more like willingly walking in.

You don’t know what Steve has told her, or not told her, but it seems he has more power than you first realised, your boss never let you off early, sure she’s let you take a day off but leaving early? Never. You’d had to be bent of and heaving before she’s pay you for half the shift.

It scares you, you don’t quite know what your walking into following this man, the the truth of its danger follows you like a shadow, every step pressed into the floor by blood and crime is a step you fall into.

You’re staining yourself with whatever it is he is knee deep in, even if you don’t want to believe it.

Steve opens the diner doors gently, letting you pass his chest, as he flips the open side the opposite side. A sleek black car comes into view on the sidewalk, it’s branded with a logo you don’t recognise but you understand it’s expensive, the kind of car where they give you shampgane when you buy it.

You don’t know why but you don’t see Steve as a man who would willingly drink champagne, the image of him holding a flute has you fighting back giggles, no, he was most defiantly the time to like bourbon or some other old fashioned liquor.

Opening the passenger door, you take a moment to look back at the diner, the low warm lights giving it a sense of home that you never found at your apartment. The crowd of boys are now singing unabashedly, stale and oily fries left on messy plates.

You hated it but it was the best thing that ever happened to you..since, well, since forever. It was gruelling and tough and not half the amount of work it took but it was yours wasn’t it? It was something you earned and kept only for you, that pay check was written in your name, not your mothers, not your husbands, yours.

Atleast you got a taste of what freedom would be like, a small glimmer of what you could’ve been if happened, hadn’t.

The inside of Steve’s car is even more opulent than its exterior, blue lighting outlining the inside of the car, and tinted windows hiding you from view.

“As much as you think you useless and naive to the word, the truth is, you're the closest thing to Richedson in his life, not his right-hand man, not his best friend, not me, you. Hell, practically half the underworld didn't even know he was married for the better part of 2 years”. Steve murmurs, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other lay rested on his thigh.

“He was embarrassed by me” You shrugged, it was the truth, even Steve knew it.

“No, I don't think so, I think he was scared that you would get hurt” Steve replies, eyes remaining on the gravel road as he followed the route to your apartment like the back of his head. It should scare you, but it doesn't, and that, that scares you.

“He couldn't care less of me, much less try and protect me from the world he married me into. Besides, whatever cruelty he tried to shield me from, he already exposed me to it himself” You reply hastily, turning your body so that you faced the door, eyes boring into the concrete sky scrapes flashing mirages against the tinted windows.

As if sensing your apprehension, Steves recognises to drop it and instead tries to tell you the reasons from earlier.

“The throne your husband sits on grants him a lot of power, enough to have half of New York at their knees. And with him as unstable as he is, it would lead to more people getting hurt, and most importantly this realm, this life, ripped open for the world to see” Steve says

“He's always been unstable, you of all people should know that” You reply, scoffing. The cracks in your husband's mind enable him to get to where he was today, it enabled him to look past the shackles of morality that kept so many from reaching their full potential as he would say.

“Not like this, no not the way he's behaving now, there's traditions and sacrifices you have to make to survive in this life, that I understand, but the cracks that have always been in him are starting to show, they're starting to crumble the things me and so man other people have built. He's going off the rails, and this time I don't think even you can reel him in” Steve reasons, turning into your apartment car pack with the palm of his hand in one swift turn.

You bristle as that, your husband has always been off, you'd noticed it the first time and you'd accepted it the last, but at least he was always predictable with the lengths he would go to for more power, more authority, more money.

“You're saying the killings could get worse? The blood? The death? You're saying he could get worse?” You say exasperated, your eyebrows furrow as you wait for Steve to reply. You didn't think he could get worse.

Running a hand down his face, Steve roughly pulls his strands back behind his ears before choosing his words carefully.

“I can't say much that won't get you killed, but he's spiralling, and he’s going to take us all down with him unless we do something unless you do something”. Steve says, pushing the hand break up as he turns to you.

You shut your eyes, squeezing them as you slump against the leather seats. Your mind wrestled as it took in all of this, even now, you would never escape your husband? Wouldn't you? Did the fate of the underworld really rest on your shoulders? You want to say no, to jump out of the car and run back to the safety of your apartment but you can't stop the flashes of the 17-year-old boy whose screams still haunted you all these years later. He would've been 21 now, likely to have walked into your diner with those boys from earlier, and most importantly alive, not buried in a shallow grave.

“Okay,” You mutter quietly, so quietly that if Steve didn't have those golden ears of his he would've missed it.

“Okay? You sure?” Steves asks again to make sure he's heard you correctly.

“Okay. Okay ill tell you what I know in exchange for protection. This is what it is right? Purely transactional?” You reply, expectantly.

Steve nods following your words, bringing his palm up to shake your own. It's surprisingly soft, his fingers, like the death and cruelty of his actions, haven't yet spoiled them.

“Just like a business” Steve mutters sparing a glance at you, the same strange expression from before, you both hold onto the grasp longer than a handshake should be. And you find yourself dropping it suddenly, before rubbing your hands against your thigh.

You reach behind the seats, grab your bag and reach for the car door, before Steve’s rough warning stops you, the deep don’t bounce off the car roof and jostles you in your sleep. You know he cants help it, but you catch glimpses of the mafia king just in that one word. You understand what he's able to to, what he's done to get here and most importantly what he’d do if you don't agree.

Steve walks around the car, before opening the door for you, you look down self-consciously.

“You know you don't have to do all that, open doors and stuff,” You say, following his steps to your apartment door.

You had never been the recipient of chivalry. You didn't get to experience the soft, innocent love everyone else did in high school, skipping straight into marriage with a mafia boss. It was pathetic now that you think about it, but you'd never been romanced, much less felt what love could be.

“I know,” Steve says, hands shoved into his pockets, but you don't let him finish speaking before you continue your heated ramble.

“I mean it, I'm not some prissy princess who needs to have her hand held every minute,” You say, searching for your keys at the bottom of your bag, before struggling to open your door.

The lock always seemed to jam wherever you tried to enter your apartment, to the point where you had to shoulder your way into your hallway to get in.

Steve reaches for the keys between your fingers, pushing it into the lock and opening the door with ease. His fingers didn't even seem to strain as slammed the door against your wall.

Looking up through hooded eyes, you catch his blues darken as he looks down, your face chest centimetres away from his chest,

“I know, trust me doll, I know” He whispers to you, and you have to pull your eyes away before moving past him, plopping your belongings onto your velvet couch.

Steve leans against the door frame, his tall length seems almost comical compared to the height of your living space, you were sure he'd have to duck to even enter.

You don't want him to enter, do you?

“Just get some sleep, ill swing by later to iron out the formalities” Steve replies, watching you carefully.

Stepping out of your high heels, you snort, calling loudly with your back to him

“Just like business!” You say with your back to him, untying your apron covered in oil and spills.

Steve smiles, amusement lighting up his features as he nods, leaning against the door

“Just like business” He mutters, before shutting the door, and making his way down the crumbling concrete steps.

He steps into the sleek black vehicle that looks out of place against the beat-up Toyota Camry that’s never left, and the busted bike with stolen tires.

You don't notice, but Steve only pulls out when he's sure you've done exactly what he's said, your figure behind pulled curtains scurrying around your room, causing a small smile to pull at his lips.

And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.

This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.

Taglist

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thirsty-lakedream · 1 year

Text

Third Roomate

I arrive after a long day of classes and this is the first thing I see when I walk into the apartment.

I’m not too surprised. It’s quite normal to see my roommate sitting on the couch and watching one of his shows. What I did not expect is how he looked.

“Hey, Matt…”

The guy glances over but says nothing, instead turning his attention back to the tv. Instead of his normal sci-fi shit he instead is watching a baseball match.

“Matt, yo I’m talking to you.” I try to block the screen with my body but he simply leans over, pointing the remote to the screen.

“In a sec man, I’m trying to watch the game.” I roll my eyes. I doubt he actually knows what’s going on about, just trying to play into his new look. “And stop calling me Matt, you know my name.”

I roll my eyes, “God you are obsessed. You know, when I agreed to buy ‘Gabriel’ with you I thought I’d at least get a turn every so often…”

“Oh come on.” The muscles blonde stood up, towering nearly a foot above me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d feel a bit intimidated. “I’m just having some fun with our new toy before you take him for the rest of the night!”

“Is this fun? Your sitting all alone pretending to be some dumb jock interested in sports. Tell me Gabe, did ‘Matt’ even go to class today?”

He shifted slightly trying to hide away, but with his big frame it was difficult to. “Not exactly… But don’t worry, l attended for him.”

“Dude! Are you serious?” Turning away from the guy, I barged into my roommate’s room, where I found him exactly where I thought I would. He stood in the center wearing a full-body haptic suit and VR headset strapped onto his head. He faced the wall, seemingly staring at nothing. The equipment was rigged to his PC, with the screen showing all sorts of familiar diagnostics and body mapping windows.

“You’ve seriously been using Gabriel all day? Even when you know I called using him tonight! Now his batteries are gonna be dead before I can even use him.” You grab him by the shoulder trying to shake him back to reality.

Matt didn’t turn to me but responded to my accusation “Relax bro. He’s been on the charger since he got home so you don’t have to worry! Look!” From behind me Gabriel walked up, standing attentively.

Both Matt and Gabriel spoke in at the same time in unison. “See? Look I’m Gabriel and I’m ready to go out with my frat bros all night!” Matt performed a mocking jig and Gabriel mimicked the exact movement. He then touched his finger to the temple of his virtual reality goggles and in an instant Gabriel halted all movement.

You see, Gabriel isn’t a real person, he never was actually. He’s what’s known as a techno-puppet. Like how in a video game you can use a controller to manipulate your avatar. It works the same way but instead you control this hyper realistic doll. It wasn’t hard to see why Matt took such a liking to living as him. We spent the last month building this entire life, even forging papers to make him an ‘official’ student in our college. We have people thinking he’s our third roomate, but in reality he’s just a toy for us to experience an exciting college life.

I waited for a moment as he took off the VR equipment and handed it to me. Hiding away into my own room, I excitedly put on the gear. Sitting myself down comfortably on my bed, felt around the headset until I found the power button. Pressing it, the technology in the haptic and goggles whittled to life. After a brief loading time, my vision awoke and I found myself once again standing in Matt’s room. My roomate grinned trying to hide his envy as I was now in control of Gabriel. Maybe ill give him a taste of his own medicine for hogging the beautiful body by taking him for the entire weekend. I know Matt is harboring a secret crush on our puppet so teasing him around the apartment can be a warmup to get into my new persona

#android #puppet #male puppet #male asfr #body possession #technology possession

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moumouton4 · 11 months

Note

Nsfw of Viktor Licht from Fire Force?? With like.. a medical kink or an inspection kink 👀

Medical And Inspection Kink Hc || Victor Licht x fem!reader

A/n : Hiiii anon I hope you'll like it ! This was the first time I wrote for something like that so I hope it's great ! Also I chose to go with a fem!reader since I didn't know which one you wanted

Warnings : NSFW, medical kink, inspection kink, fingering, mention of breeding, cum, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Words count : 763

This kink came in such an unexpected way for him

As you were his first girlfriend, he was a little self-conscious about his ability to make you feel good

So he used his scientific skills to gauge your reactions and place them on an imaginary scale in his mind to find out whether you liked the ministrations he was performing on your body more or less

He wanted to learn everything from you, and in the end it quickly became a kink

When he passes by you at certain key moments of the day - with clean hands - he pulls you aside and swipes his finger on your folds or sticks a finger in your pussy if he's eager, to see if you're more or less wet as the day goes on. And then he goes and writes it all down in a notebook hidden in his office, pleased

He does lots of tests to find out what turns you on the most. He kisses you on the neck or gives you a languorous kiss with a firm grip on your ass. And then he'll lift your shirt to see if your nipples are getting hard or put his hand in your panties to see if you're wet.

As I said he just wants to know everything about you, and speaking of which

Once he laid you down on a bed and while looking at a map he started to move his fingers inside you. He was looking for the different points that stimulated you the most. Your squirms and moans were a good indication that he was on the right track

He loves to test how much you can orgasm, whether it's with his fingers, his mouth or his cock. His record, easy, 9 on a row

And then again when he discovered that you can squirt when you're over-stimulated. This time he was able to record a figure of 4 ( he still thinks he can do better )

He loves to feed you different foods to see how they affect the taste of your cum.

that's how he found that pineapple gave you a sweet taste.

He stayed for an hour between your legs as if it were a sweet treat

He puts his hand on your carotid artery to feel your pulse when you're cumming, and once he even brought a stethoscope. He won't say it, but it was your jerky heartbeat that made him cum

One day he even put electrodes on your head to see how your brain reacted throughout your sexual intercourse

One day he even tried to see if he could reach your g-spot with his tongue in your cunt The test wasn't conclusive, and in the end he finished you off with his dick ( well, he doesn't have Orochimaru's tongue after all )

You should know that sometimes he doesn't necessarily want to cum, he just wants to get new information. When he has enough free time, he'll pull you aside and do his little tests

On the other hand, he makes it a real personal goal to make you come every time

He's always trying to scientifically establish a reason why you look so beautiful in your afterglow

Of course, all this information are hidden in a hidden drawer on his desk ( like Light Yagami but it's a Sex Note this time )

No part of your body remains untouched by her skilled hands

And seriously, don't worry about anyone finding this notebook, Victor made sure to write all its contents in a Mayan dialect

It doesn't bother you, unless when he's shining a light in your eyes to see your pupils dilate when you're aroused or getting fucked

Once he nearly poked your eye out with the force of his thrust, ooops

One of his future goal is to see how fast he can get you pregnant

In fact, as long as it doesn't turn into obsession, it's a good enough excuse for hi and you to push your limits even further

Besides, not all your fucks are like that. There are days when he just slam himself inside of you looking for this sweet release and that moment of ecstasy for both of you. In those moments, the idea of noting how many times you clench around him or the force with which you dig your nails in his back doesn't occur to him at all

But he must be aware that you might as well develop this kink. And then we'll see if he can handle them

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍱🍗 Again my requests are open 🥗🧀

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

#fire force #fire force smut #fire force imagine #fire force fics #victor licht #victor licht x reader #victor licht smut #victor licht x reader smut #smut #request #miri-writes #victor licht imagine

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reallyromealone · 2 years

Text

Pah chin x Omega male reader

Requested: shhh secret

You absolutely can!

It's the dead of night and I'm writing filth.

WARNING: NSFW - OMEGAVERSE - MLM - PET NAMES ( baby, darling, Omega, good boy, baby boy) - DEGRADING ( whore,slut, bitch,clock sleeve) - cum eating - rough sex - 69ing - blowjobs - ass eating

(name) sat before pah with a sweet yet nervous expression before wrapping his arms around the others neck "are you sure you wanna to do this?" Pah asked seriously, no matter what he wouldn't let (name) do something he wasn't comfortable with "I want my first time with you not to be during my heat, I want to remember this" he said confidently but with a slight wager, he was fairly nervous after all.

"So please... Take care of me alpha" (name) said and pulled pah into a gentle kiss and purred when the Alpha pulled him close and took control of the kiss and Pah could smell the slick leaking from (name), smelt like a musky honey.

Pah slowly began kissing down as (name) messed up his hair "h-haru!" (Name) gasped as Pah sucked on his mating gland "can't wait to bite this" pah mumbled and layed (name) gently on the bed while hovering above him, despite being a bit bulkier Pah was very fit as (name) marvelled his arms with every moan that escaped his slightly kiss swollen lips.

Pah treated (name) like the prince he was, gentle sensual kisses despite his usual rough and loud nature because he wanted (name)s first time to be memorable in the best way possible.

Though he did leave Hickeys and bite marks all over his body as he embarked his maiden voyage and mapping every detail of (name)s perfect body to memory.

When pah came to (name)s chest he was like a vacuum cleaner with how he sucked on them, feeling (name)s erection brush against him as he let out a choked sob "god you're fucking beautiful" he said surprisingly quiet as he pulled away to look at the Omega....his Omega.

It still blew pahs mind that such a beautiful and wonderful person chose him out of all people.

He was with the rest of the Toman men and he chose h i m.

Not Mitsuya

Not smiley

Him.

He felt a surge go through him as he pulled (name) closer into a heated kiss once more, tongues dancing as (name) let out sweet moans as Pahs hand travelled lower to his cock, slowly rubbing it before pulling his mouth away from (name)s and admiring his kiss swollen lips and already fucked out face before moving lower and taking his cock in his mouth.

This isn't the first time they did this sort of thing, (name) had gave him blowjobs a fair amount of times in their six months of dating and Pah was more than happy to reciprocate the gesture.

This time though, they were going all the way.

And Pah felt himself get impossibility hard at that.

"F-fuck! T-to much!" (Name) moaned out as he buckled into pahs mouth desperately and whined when Pah kept his hips still with one hand "behave baby"

(Name) whined but complied, body shaking at the pleasure he was given, toes curling as he felt himself close to orgasm.

"H-haru... Close!" (Name) said gripping the others hair as his legs wrapped around his head but Pah only sucked harder and faster while rubbing his thighs gently "f-fuck!" And with that (name) came in his mouth with a loud breathy moan and shaking hips.

"M-make alpha feel good..." (Name) was totally out of it as he crawled towards pah "baby I have an idea" pah said as if he had a stroke of genius and (name) nodded.

"A-are you sure I'm not hurting you alpha?"

"You're good baby!" Pah said gripping the others ass, spreading his cheeks as (name) lay over him, face brushing against his cock, the two 69ing and (name) felt scandalous doing it, belly heating up at the concept of doing something like this.

He found he really liked that feeling.

Pah have (name) a long lick across his ass and grinned at the taste and (name) yelping, this was supposed to be a slow romantic first time but Pah couldn't help himself.

He never could with (name).

(Name) looked at pahs cock and licked the head, tasting the salty pre cum before taking it in, hollowing his cheeks as Pah ate him out like a starving man and (name)s ass was the finest of meals.

(Name)s moans vibrated throughout pahs cock as the blond began stretching out (name) and getting him ready.

(Name) came on pahs chest halfway before his ass was ready for pahs cock.

(Name) was hazy as he was set on the bed, completely wrecked as his legs were spread as Pah touched foreheads with (name) "you ready baby?"

"Fuck me alpha"

Pah guided his cock inside (name) watching it get lost in his heat "fuck.... So fuckin' tight" pah groaned out as he bottomed out, (name) shaking teary eyed "f-fuck move alpha!"

Pah moved his hips slowly before slowly picking up speed and he tried to make (name) feel like a prince but it was hard when he just looked like such a.... "Filthy slut taking my cock like that" the words slipped out and Pah was ready to apologize if (name) didn't tighten and moan at the others words.

"Shit? You like that you fucking whore? Like it when I call you out on how much of a whiny bitch you are on my cock"

"A-alpha~!" (Name) panted out as Pah fucked him roughly "yeah alpha just fucking took your virginity, made you his personal fucking cock sleeve!"

Pah was fucking him hard and fast as the bed shook, poor (name) moaning and crying.

Pah promised himself to make sure (name) was 100% comfortable and didn't get hurt but now he was beginning to see a side of (name) he unlocked.

A very slutty side.

"Gonna stuff you full of my knot, bet you want that huh?"

"Yesyesyesyes" (name) chanted pathetically as Pah moved his hips to meet his thrusts "of course you do, only cock you're ever getting us alphas!"

When pahs knot began forming he saw (name) cross-eyed and babbled and took a mental image as pride surged throughout him.

"Take my knot!" He said pushing it in and locking the two together, subsequently pushing them both over the edge "thank god for birth control...." (Name) mumbled as they both came down from their high and Pah remember all the shit he just did to (name) "ah fuck" pah said almost disappointed "what alpha?" (Name) asked worriedly as he cuddled into Pah while they waited for his knot to go down "I wanted this to be special! To make you feel delicate and precious!"

"This was the best night of my life Haru, I could die happy like this, you did great baby"

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely, now when your knot dies down, please carry me to the bathroom I think my legs are numb and I need to pee"

"Of course, anything for you baby"

#tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #pah chin x male reader #pah chin x reader #x male reader #omega male reader #omegaverse #smut

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anmylica · 10 months

Text

Fly With The Black Swan

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @zaharadessert @whimsicallyenchantedrose @deckerstarblanche

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Summary: Captain Hook has finally returned to the Enchanted Forest after an all-too-long stint in the Enchanted Forest, ready to get his revenge, only he’s too late. His Crocodile has been killed by another, but the demon partially responsible for his Milah’s death remains. He sets out, determined to kill the demon once and for all, but a life or death situation puts him right in the demon’s clutches. Reluctantly, he joins the new Dark One, finding himself falling for her against his will and his motivations change. Now, he needs to save this woman from the same demon that killed his first love, and he plans out a way to save her.

But the Darkness has plans of its own.

CSSNS ‘23 Entry. Based on the Sonata Arctica song “Fly With The Black Swan”

Note: I have no idea if this is going to post or not. I am currently in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico with crappy satellite internet and none of my other attempts have gone through. Seriously, I’ve tried it a million times by this point. Maybe this time is the charm? I guess we’ll see. If it does post, I will be editing this Saturday to clean it up when I get home.

———————————

The Jolly Roger landed hard in the ocean waters with a great splash that sent droplets of water into the air and on the deck, drenching most of her crew in the process. Captain Hook stood at the helm, seemingly unaffected by the wake, scanning the seas for any danger, always on his guard. He took a deep breath, turning his face up to the sun high in the sky, practically tasting the ocean on his tongue and thought, ‘This is what freedom smells like.’ The sails glittered with the remnants of the last vial of pixie dust he would ever have to use to get his ship airborne for a sojourn back to the Enchanted Forest again.

He had just spent countless years sailing the never ending circle of Neverland’s waters in the reluctant employ of a demon in a child’s body, never seeing the sun except for when he was Pan’s errand boy on a supply run back to the Enchanted Forest. His years under the deal with Pan were finally complete, and he felt that he had enough information to achieve his true mission: skinning his Crocodile.

Captain Hook stared at the cloudless sky, pondering his next steps as his first mate, William Smee, blundered about giving orders to the others. His crew scurried about letting out sails, hauling in lines, securing their goods, and generally making preparations to sail to the destination their captain ordered. Throughout the hustle and bustle, their captain stood stoic at the helm. He did not steer; his helmsman, Antonio Buckham, had the pleasure of directing the ship, and he stood with his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes on his captain’s profile, awaiting orders.

Hook’s forget-me-not blue eyes finally left the horizon and focused upon the map in front of him. If he had landed his ship in the location he had wanted, then he was just due south of Glowerhaven. This was a pirate-friendly port, and it was going to be the best place at which they could restock their supplies. He looked over at Buckham, who stood anticipating his orders.

“Make way to Glowerhaven,” Hook ordered, and Buckham nodded once.

“Aye, Captain,” he responded, turning to the rest of the crew before bellowing, “Make way to Glowerhaven!”

The crew repeated the order, and Buckham turned the wheel slightly as the others adjusted the sails. Through it all, Hook said nothing else, just watched the sea and the sky pass them by as they sailed towards their port of call. It was a sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky. A good wind at their backs filled the sails and carried them over the water so smoothly it was as if the ship was flying over the waves. All around the deck, his crew carried out their orders, bringing them into the port where they could find a tavern and food and relish their newfound freedom. Hook surveyed the work with disinterest, for so long as they arrived at their destination without issue, it did not matter to him how his crew did their jobs.

His cold, hard, forget-me-not blue eyes watched ahead of the bow as the land of the Enchanted Forest appeared in view. His jaw clenched at the sight. It was there that he would finally fulfill his life’s purpose. As the land grew closer and the short skyline of Glowerhaven became more distinct, he was filled with a sense that, at last, he was on the path for his vengeance. He was about to find his happy ending, however bittersweet it may be. A determined, almost manic glint filled his eyes, and his crew gave him side glances and moved away from him, hoping to avoid his ire, though he paid them no mind.

An hour later, The Jolly Roger had been docked into her berth, the crew had all left, and those tasked with her watch were settled in for a few hours. Hook was the last to leave, wanting to make sure everything was just so. He sauntered down the alleyways between buildings into a tavern at which he had long since been a patron. He knew that the last pieces of his plan could be crafted with information the owner likely had.

He opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the room for any potentially unsavory situations. The room was dimly lit and dirty, much like all portside taverns throughout the realms of the Enchanted Forest. Rough hewn tables of various sizes filled the room and stools of varying heights were haphazardly placed by each table. There weren’t many people occupying the tavern at this time of day, and so most of the tables were empty. His crew occupied a few, already having drinks and food delivered by several barmaids. The bar was manned by a lone attendant, and it was to her that he made his way.

He slid onto a stool at the bar in front of her with a beguiling grin on his face. The old woman scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she moved closer, grabbing a bottle of rum and a glass on her way.

“What are you scallywags doing here,” she demanded, plunking down the bottle and glass roughly. She looked over her glasses at Hook and stared him down, causing him to grin even wider.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend,” he responded, moving to open the bottle and pour himself a finger’s width of rum. He had no plans on getting drunk, but he wasn’t about to turn down the libation.

“You’re hardly a friend,” she retorted, causing him to laugh.

“A patron then,” he amended. “A well-paying patron.”

The woman surveyed him hard and then nodded. “What do you want, Hook?”

He shook his head slightly as he raised the glass to his lips and knocked back the measure of rum. “Many things,” he said, placing the glass back on the bar. “Mostly, I’d like information at the moment.”

The woman crossed her arms. “I ain’t got information.”

Hook smirked. “Come, now, Granny, you and I both know you’re the best there is at collecting information. And we both know how valuable I find it.”

He took out his coin purse and very deliberately counted out five doubloons. Granny watched him as he did so, quirking an eyebrow at him before sighing.

“You want to know about the Dark One’s movements,” she said, grabbing a second glass and pouring herself a measure of rum.

“Aye.” Hook eyed her with curiosity, as this was definitely out of the norm for their usual pattern of conversation.

Granny took a sip of her drink and met his eyes. “You’re a bit behind the times.”

“How so?” Hook questioned, leaning closer to the old woman, a frown on his face at Granny’s implication.

“The Dark One you chase is no longer the host of the Darkness. The host has changed,” Granny said bluntly, a strange look crossing her face.

Hook blinked as Granny fell silent, sipping her rum to allow him time to process her words. He didn’t move as he tasted the information on his lips, a horrible sensation of dread and despair filling him. His immediate instinct was to deny that it was possible, but he knew deep down that the woman’s look of despair and grief couldn’t be anything but real.

“Who is it now?” he asked, studying her face carefully, hoping to pick up on some nuance in her communication. He didn’t know what he was looking for exactly, but he felt disappointment all the same when he realize how upset she was.

Granny poured herself a bit more rum into the half-full glass and knocked back the entire thing in one swallow. Hook watched her dispassionately. She grimaced out of grief, and Hook realized this topic was a festering wound though he didn’t know why.

“I don’t know,” Granny denied, and Hook got the sense that she did indeed know but didn’t want to admit it.

Hook clenched his fist and narrowed his eyes. He felt a rage that he hadn’t felt since Rumplestiltskin had taken his hand and his love from him. All these years of seeking revenge, and for what? What was he left with now? He snarled at the thought of the Crocodile evading his hook another time.

Granny cleared her throat as she choked back tears, calling his attention back to her before he could fall any more into his anger. Her wet eyes shocked him out of his rage long enough to restore sense to his head. “You want any more than that, you’re out of luck. I know nothing else.”

Granny poured herself another shot and knocked it back. Once she had finished, she stood and moved down to another end of the bar without another word. Hook contemplated the bottle before deciding that today’s news had been bad enough. He poured himself a healthy measure and drained the glass. He glanced over to Smee and beckoned his head. Smee scrambled to his side, and when Smee was within earshot, he said, “Tomorrow we travel to the Dark One’s castle.”

Smee blinked before widening his eyes in fear. “To the Dark One’s castle?”

“Aye,” Hook responded. “There will be information there that we need.”

“But won’t he-“ Smee began but Hook cut him off.

“Apparently someone else got to the Crocodile before us. I want to know who and why.” Hook’s eyes hardened in resolve, and Smee gulped before nodding his head. “My best chance at getting answers is there.”

As Smee scrambled off back to the crew to pass the news around, Hook drank another healthy measure of rum, resigned to the situation at hand. This was merely a minor setback in his quest for revenge. He’d waited this long; he could bide his time a little longer.

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful, completely at odds with Hook’s mood. Hook had already left instructions to the next man in charge for getting supplies in his stead. He and Smee arranged for a couple of horses for the journey inland, and they made sure to have the necessary supplies for their journey.

The journey itself to the Dark One’s castle was mostly uneventful. Hook and Smee endeavored to find out all they could about the Dark One’s whereabouts, but no one wanted to talk. Either they didn’t know or they avoided the conversation once questions were asked and quickly hurried off on their way. Hook was quickly becoming vexed with the situation. He needed answers now.

“Don’t worry, Captain,” Smee attempted to reassure him after their latest fruitless encounter in a village just south of the Southern Kingdom’s borders. “We’ll find out more at the next inn.”

Hook just sighed in response. It would do no good taking his ire out on Smee. Not when the man was trying to help. Hook just nudged his horse forward into a trot.

“We can find out all we need once we reach the Dark One’s castle. Come and let us stop wasting time,” Hook replied.

Smee said nothing in response. Hook supposed it was because Smee could see just how fine the leash was on his temper. The two rode on in silence, crossing into the Moors kingdom just before nightfall. They stopped at an inn for the night, keeping their ears fruitlessly peeled for any hint of gossip. None could be heard that bore any importance for their quest.

The next morning’s travels brought about similar results. They crossed the small leg of the East Mountains and into Capetia at around noon. They stopped briefly at a tavern for food before moving on. The ride was boring, and Hook’s mind wandered as the horse trudged onward.

Just who had managed to get the best of the Crocodile? How had that happened? Would there even be anything of value at Rumplestiltskin’s old castle? Was all of this just Hook grasping at straws, unwilling to let a past wrong go, even after the culprit was long gone?

Hook didn’t think so, but he had been wrong before. He decided that the only way he was going to get answers was by raiding Rumplestiltskin’s castle. He could decide on the next course to set once he saw the state of things there.

They reached the edge of the Dark Forest that evening. He and Smee lit a fire for safety and camped under the stars. Neither spoke very much, for Hook was too deep in thought and Smee knew better than to push his Captain when the man was pensive like this. The night passed by uneventfully, and the next morning dawned bright.

A hard ride resulted in their arriving at the perimeter of the Dark One’s lands just after noon. They pulled their horses up short as they surveyed the imposing structure in the distance.

“So that’s the Dark One’s castle,” Smee muttered. “Do you think maybe he was compensating for something?”

Hook sniggered. “Most assuredly. We need to be cautious. If the rumors are false, and he is still alive, he won’t take kindly to seeing either of us.”

Smee nodded vigorously and they dismounted their horses. They tied the mounts off, leaving them plenty of slack to graze, and they slunk off in the direction of danger. They crept along in the surrounding woods, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears alert.

The woods were silent. It was eerie how no animals rustled in the undergrowth, how no birds tweeted in the trees above them. The closer they got to the castle, the quieter it got. Hook felt dizzy with how much he kept looking around them, just waiting for an ambush.

Finally they got close enough that the front doors were just in front of them. The castle had a derelict, abandoned feel. No smoke rose from the myriad chimneys; no movement could be detected behind the windows. The facade was covered in overrun ivies and weeds littered the overgrown lawn.

“Well, Captain, there might just be some truth to the rumors after all.”

Hook glanced at Smee. “It seems safe enough so far, but keep on your guard.”

Hook and Smee each grasped a door handle of the giant wooden doors and pulled with all their might, not noticing the wave of blue light that swept the yard as they did so. Slowly, creaking in protest the entire time, the doors gave away. Hook was just about to step inside the foyer when a fireball came soaring at them. Hook and Smee dove for the ground, managing to just narrowly avoid it. They watched as it flew into a tree and caught it on fire. The flames whooshed as it engulfed the large tree and devoured it until nothing but ash remained. They stared at it before looking at each other.

“Let’s hope that’s the only thing waiting for us,” Hook said. Smee chuckled nervously and they both scrambled up into standing positions. They glanced at the opening, but nothing else seemed to be waiting.

“Shall we try this again, sir,” Smee asked uncertainly.

Hook nodded once. “Without the fireballs, preferably.”

They crept through the arched doorway, sticking to the sides, but nothing else happened. The foyer beyond was dark and cold. It gave off a chilling air of abandonment. Hook and Smee exchanged looks.

“Shall we split up sir? Cover more ground that way,” Smee offered as he shrugged.

Hook considered his first mate for a moment, eyebrow tilting up a bit. On the one hand, splitting up could be a trap, but on the other, they waste valuable time searching together.

Hook nodded once. “Yell if you find anything.”

“Aye, aye,” replied Smee before heading to the rooms on the left. Hook decided to go up the grand staircase that lay in waiting just in front of him.

He walked up the steps one at a time, slowly prowling forward, always expecting another type of security measure. Nothing happened.

The lack of reaction set him on edge even more than he had been before entering the abandoned building. He expected Rumplestiltskin’s slimy high pitched giggle to sound behind him at any moment. As the minutes dragged on, he became even more unnerved at the lack of the coward’s appearance.

He stepped onto the next floor and looked around him. The second floor had the same derelict feel as the downstairs. There was no sign of anyone’s inhabitance. He crept forward, resting his palm in the jolt of his sword, keeping his hook at the ready. The first room he came to was some sort of guest room, but for whom, Hook couldn’t begin to say. He didn’t believe the Crocodile had many guests. The imp hadn’t been known for his hospitality, after all. He searched the room, but nothing was there besides tacky furniture and dusty bedclothes. Hook left the room as quickly as he entered it.

The silence in this place was eerie. It set his teeth on edge, and he clenched his jaw out of tension. He crept down the hallway, forgoing searching other countless bedchambers. The stench of Dark magic hung in the air, cloying and sickening. The further down the hall he traveled, the more palpable the magic became.

He went up another staircase, choosing to follow the feeling of the magic instead of investigating every room. Hook figured the odds of finding something were better if he traced the magic. He hadn’t felt this kind of sensation, this tingling numbness, since the Crocodile had been on the deck of his ship, changing Hook’s life forever.

He followed the tingle of the magic until he arrived in front of what appeared to be a private study. He opened the double doors and walked into a large room. A giant table occupied the center of the room, and display cases that had once held whatever objects Rumplestiltskin deemed important surrounded the table. The room had been decorated in rich shades of red and gold, but now a thick layer of dust covered everything.

The room looked as if it had been ransacked by looters at some undetermined point. Hook breathed a heavy sigh. This beyond anything else convinced him that the Crocodile was gone. Looters wouldn’t have been able to mauraud this castle if Rumplestiltskin had still been alive. Hook felt a dull sensation curdle in his stomach that he belatedly recognized was disappointment.

Discouraged, he wandered into the room, no less on his guard than before, but no longer expecting his mortal enemy to appear before him sniggering with twisted glee. He rummaged through the detritus, looking for something but not knowing what it was. After shuffling a few plates around, he saw a brown piece of fabric, dirtied with age and a few dried blood stains. He frowned and picked it up, his heart sinking even lower in his chest.

He knew those stitches.

He stood and shook the fabric out, using his hook to help fan it out to make sure that it was what he thought it was. He smiled a grim smile at the confirmation. It was a shawl. He recognized the handiwork as Milah’s, and he suddenly felt like crying. It must have belonged to Bae.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, hoping to drown the burning sensation, and rapidly tried to blink tears away. He folded it as carefully as he could, caressing the fabric as he did so. He took a step towards the door, intending to leave this room and all its ghosts behind, when he stepped on something that slid as he put his weight down.

Catching himself from falling, he looked at his feet and saw a cane. He moved his shoe off the wood and bent down to pick it up, recognizing it to be that old cane the Crocodile had once used to walk when the coward boarded his ship for the first time. He held it against the shawl that was also in his hand for a moment, considering all the possibilities that could have happened and didn’t, all the ways fate could have worked out differently for him.

Frustrated, he threw the cane away from him and turned to walk out. As he threw it, a shimmering came from the far corner of the room, catching his attention. The shimmering revealed a cabinet that extended from floor to ceiling. He stared in disbelief at it before his heart started racing. This was what he had been looking for!

He hurried to it and wrenched the doors open, seeing all kinds of magical items and whatnots. Books were stacked high in all areas, potion ingredients were stored three lines deep in bottles, with some already being completed. Magical objects filled the empty areas, and wands were held in stands. The magical items weren’t necessarily what he needed, but the books… the books might just be the missing link.

Hook tore through the books stacked high inside the cabinet, desperately searching for something that would help him piece together what had happened. He quickly discarded the ones that looked as if they were magical instruction books, having no interest in their contents. No, he was looking for something more personal.

Seeing nothing in the stack that could help him, he turned to the table, searching for any hidden compartments. Finding two, he tore open the drawers, the contents rattling as he jerked the drawers out, quills and empty ink bottles and other rubbish littering their insides. There was nothing that could even hint at the circumstances that finally resulted in the demon's demise.

He searched in this manner until he had combed through the entire room. If there had ever been any records, they had long since been hidden or destroyed. The fruitlessness of the search just made Hook more determined.

There had to be another room he had overlooked in this overgrown hunk of an imitation castle. Moving decisively towards the door, his hook got caught in a hole in a shelf of the cabinet in his haste. Hook yanked his hook out of the hole it had gotten lodged in, and the shelf came crashing, the contents falling to the floor in a great crash. Hook just managed to jump out of the way in time.

Hook scanned the rubbish, finding it absolutely ridiculous that Rumplestiltskin had never bothered to secure the blasted thing when it had borne all that weight when something caught his eye.

He scanned the back of the cabinet again, his brow furrowing in concentration. There! A glimmer!! He tilted his head this way and that as he tried to determine from where the glimmer had come. He noticed a notch from in between the wooden panels that covered the back of the shelf.

He put his hook into the notch, which was just big enough for the tip of his hook to lodge into, and pulled. The back panel was stubborn and didn’t come off. He sighed and maneuvered his hook deeper into the hole to provide himself with a bit more leverage. He wrapped his hand around his brace and pulled again, this time with all his strength.

The back panel came loose with a loud screech. It had detached just enough so he could see a small book inside. The cabinet must have had a false backing that only the crocodile would know about.

“Clever,” Hook muttered to himself as he reached in and clasped the book in his hand. Once he had pulled it out, he wiggled his hook out of the hole and set out to peruse the book. It had to contain something of importance if the Crocodile had gone to great lengths to keep it hidden.

He opened the book as he sank into a nearby chair that hadn’t toppled over in his haste to further ransack the room. Hook was pleased to find that it was a handwritten journal. He flipped through the pages slowly, finding a lot of drivel about magical experiments that didn’t interest Hook. Most of it was useless, but almost at the end of the journal, the writing changed. It was spiky, with very slanted words (a far different type of handwriting from Rumplestiltskin's scrawled handwriting).

The script made the document hard to read, so Hook skimmed the pages looking for any clues as to what had happened to the Crocodile (and most importantly, whom had killed him). He flipped through page after page, almost falling into a trance as he skimmed over the entry. Just when he thought the journal had nothing of importance, his eyes caught upon a very familiar name.

Milah.

Hook’s heart skipped a beat. He read the sentence that contained her name but found it didn’t make sense in the context, so he backtracked until he fell upon a section that seemed to detail why her name was on the page.

As he read the entry, his blood began to boil.

It had been easy enough to convince Rumplestiltskin that the only way to satisfy his broken heart upon learning his once beloved wife had fallen in love with someone else was to rip out her heart and crush it. With this, I believe that Rumplestiltskin’s last dregs of humanity have been thoroughly eradicated. I have been successful in imprinting myself irrevocably within his soul. With his black heart now thoroughly darkened, he will have no hope of the use of Light Magic against me, that cursed abomination of a magical force.

I had thought seeing him abandon and break a deal with his son was the ultimate test of his loyalty to me, but his murder of Milah showed me the depths of depravity he is willing to sink to. It will be so much easier to twist and bend Rumplestiltskin’s actions to my will. It was amusing to see how little he resisted the urge once I placed the thought in his head to kill her. He almost seemed to welcome it.

I think the coward enjoyed the thrill of the power I wield over life. He will be much more pliant to fulfilling my desires, I think. After all, he will not want to give up the control over the magic I have given him easily. This just serves as further proof that humanity is corruptible and unworthy of the gifts they have been bestowed. They will all bow to me before it is over. I must make my own plans for that day. This vessel will not be able to support me for very long, and the time will eventually come to find another host.

Hook continued to read, but the rest of the passage detailed how it felt to crush a heart and the magic that had to go into the action. He felt sick the more he tried to read, and he closed the book in disgust. His heart lay in jagged pieces at his feet at the information he had sought and obtained.

Rumplestiltskin had merely been a pawn in Milah’s death. Oh, Hook didn’t doubt that Rumplestiltskin desired her death; by the end, the man had looked upon his estranged wife with hatred in his eyes. But to learn that Hook’s love had been killed because some demon had wanted it done to prove a point? That was like rubbing salt in an already festering and infected wound.

Hook grit his teeth. He snatched the journal up and tucked it into one of the hidden pockets in his leather duster. His revenge was still possible. All he had to do was find the demon that killed her and find a way to end its existence.

He threw open the door, hollering for Smee. His first mate came running.

“Tell me you’ve found something of value in this place,” Hook commanded.

Smee held up a dreamcatcher. “I found this. I think it could tell us who the next Dark One is!”

“What is it?” Hook asked, puzzled as to how such an object would be able to tell them anything.

“I don’t know what it’s called, but when I held it, I could see something. I think it might hold memories.” Smee held it out to his captain.

Hook took it in his hand, and once he touched it, images started to play out amongst the strings. It did look like memories. He watched as a pretty young girl, possibly mid to late twenties, approached the Dark One. Rumplestiltskin giggled, dismissing her, when she held out the dagger. He watched dispassionately as Rumple froze in disbelief. He watched the woman say something and then plunge the knife into Rumplestiltskin’s chest. He watched as oily tendrils of darkness began to ooze out of Rumpelstiltskin, making their way up the woman’s arms until it coated her in the substance. She disappeared, the knife disappearing along with her. Rumplestiltskin fell to the ground of his castle, obviously dead.

“Where did she disappear to?” Hook asked once the memories went black and the images reverted back to the strings once more.

“I don’t know, Captain. But I found this with it,” Smee said as he held up a giant black feather.

Hook took it, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Perhaps we can use this to find out.”

He turned and made his way back into the study where he had found the stash of potions. He went to the box and scanned its contents, pulling out a bottle once he had found what he was looking for. He uncorked it, Smee looking on, and poured its contents over the feather.

“Is that a locator spell?” Smee asked.

“I think so. It’s some kind of potion for it, at any rate.” He watched as the feather floated in the air before darting towards a ragged map of the Enchanted Forest that hung on the wall. It gouged itself into the map, and Hook and Smee hurried across the room to see where it was pointing.

“The North Mountains?” Smee read aloud.

“Aye,” Hook agreed. “That is our next destination. We must return to the ship at once.”

Smee nodded, and after a brief moment to figure out the exact location on the map the feather pointed to, the two men left the Dark One’s castle, never to step foot inside again.

After several days’ journey of riding hard and resting only when needed, Hook and Smee arrived back in the port town they had left the Jolly Roger moored at. After a quick replenishment of supplies, she set sail once more, this time to a village called Sapphire Springs in the Northern Kingdom.

Hartford was a quaint little village that had little to offer pirate crews, so Hook and his band rarely made port there. It was out of the way of the major shipping lanes, as it was the most remote village of the Northern Kingdom. Hook preferred doing most of his business at Glowerhaven and other larger ports where it was easier to blend in with the locals and visitors, but he had been to Sapphire Springs enough to know the lay of the land.

Hook and his crew sailed hard, avoiding most traffic in the shipping lanes. They stumbled upon a ship from Agrabah, and Hook gave the order to take it. He knew his crew would appreciate the opportunity to acquire jewels and riches when they hadn’t yet been able to take any ships since their permanent arrival back in the Enchanted Forest. The crew of the merchant ship were very amenable to surrender, and after a couple of hours, the Jolly Roger rode deeper in the water, her hull full of spices and jewels and Agrabahn wine. Hook allowed them to open a barrel, and the evening was spent toasting their success.

They made a quick stop at a port in Sherwood Forest to sell off the jewels and spices. Smee divided the spoils to the rest of the crew after selling off their wares. The crew didn’t dally long; Hook was in too much of a hurry to make it to the North Mountains to spend much time in port.

After selling off this particular haul, they set sail once more, making a beeline straight for Sappire Springs. Hook stood back, letting his crew do the sailing and navigating as they had been for centuries. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon as he came ever closer to fulfilling his destiny and achieving his happy ending (however miserable an end it may be). If he had any doubts about the dangers that lay before him, he didn’t express it.

Hook continued his vigilance until the sky turned to dusk and the night crew took over. He looked out over the water at the waves, felt the breeze on his face, and heaved a sigh. He turned and slid open the hatch to his cabin and descended the ladder, not noticing the giant black swan that swooped down from the clouds and glided over the ship for a brief moment before ascending once more into the clouds.

#CSSNS ‘23 #killian jones #captain swan #once upon a time #emma swan #ouat #captain hook #cs ff #anmylica writes #Darkness rewrite #Based on the Sonata Arctica song of the same name

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joycew-blog · 1 year

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I have so many thoughts about the finale!!! First off, I am so happy that Rick regressed!!! It's of course terrible for Morty and the rest of the family, but it feels way more realistic and interesting. The path to recovery is hard and will have roadblocks. You can't fix decades of bad habits in just a couple of episodes.

That doesn't mean that Rick hasn't been trying tho! Him helping Jerry with the Fortune Cookies, the whole Roy thing, Analyze Piss, that was still the real Rick! He still went to therapy, he did genuinely try.

But Morty being mad at him just triggers things in him that makes him go back in his old ways. It was a less bad reaction than in the past, cause last time Morty called him out on his crap Rick decided to replace him with two crows and before that we got the Vat of Acid episode (there might be more, but esp the Vat is so vivid in my mind of the bad crap he did to that poor kid). He wouldn't have made a robot that's actually kind to Morty and have him have a good time. In that sense I guess Rick knows his limitations, that he can't make Morty happy right now as he is.

But instead of discussing that with him and being emotionally open about it, he goes behind their back and replaces himself with a robot so he betrays their trust....again! (Cause he probably thinks it's better if he's not around while he's like this, but at the same time he's proving the point that it's better he's not around by putting out a robot that's 'better' than him. It's a self-fulling prophecy and he does this all the time.)

As for Morty, someone, anyone, please give this poor kid a hug! He just wanted a nice Christmas for himself and his family. He never gets a break and when he does it's just too good to be true!

I think when he broke down in front of the President it was more than just Christmas being ruined. His trust was betrayed, again, and the things he enjoyed the past episode probably now leave a bitter taste in his mouth since it was not his real grandpa. He probably thought at that moment that Rick would rather build a robot to be nice to him, instead of putting in the effort himself...

And then of course Curtis drives the knife even deeper by betraying Morty afterwards...

And Robot Rick! He was so kind and he tried so hard. I felt for him so much with how he felt so guilty about betraying the family's trust. And him trying to be honest about it made my stomach twist cause I knew it would just go badly...

And when it did go bad the family immediately went out to destroy him. They must be really traumatized from the robots and clones and the crap Rick has pulled them through with it…

Seriously Robot Rick was the final hero in this episode and I wished he didn't die...

And god the final couple of minutes...

They are going on adventures again, but dang the reason for it will be so different! For Morty the most, cause what will happen if they find Prime? And what does Rick mean he is on all the location that were pointed on his map?! Like, he's on all of them at the same time, or are those places he has been/has mini-homebases?

And the classic Rick ramble at the end. Normally they are done for comedy purposes, but in this scene it just felt....dark and sad. This is what Rick really is, an obsessed, traumatized person wanting to find the guy that killed his family. It broke him down to his core, the search for him even more so than the killing of his family. Even years later he still can't let it rest!

And now he's dragging his grandson along him with it...

This episode is the exact reason I love this show. Just when I think I lose a bit of interest they do something that's made me hyped up all over again!

I really am hyped and curious to find out what they are going to do for season 7!

#rick and morty #rick and morty season 6 spoilers

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kiwisbell · 2 months

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omg kiwi hello this is real-life-is-lifing anon again!

i was taking a break from midterm reviewing and decided to treat myself by rereading <the hitman's guide to getting the girl> and sadjkhfgbaskdfgayusrfgbaskhdfhgadskvga I AM COMPLETELY BLOWN AWAY YET AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭 it almost reads like a romance in verses its so beautifully written and meticulously thought out I AM IN LOVE

im only at chapter 4 rn where they FINALLY KISSED for the very first time but it feels like theyve known each other forever and seamlessly orbit each other, the push and pull that youve perfectly built up in such few short chapters really leaves me breathless and so fulfilled 😭

also, i am really REALLY in love with your brain and would like to spend some quality time with it if you have no objection...👉🏻👈🏻 thus i am here humbly requesting some book recommendations that maybe inspired this fic or remind you of the characters that you crafted in this fic?

love, Love, LOVE

HI FRIEND!! oh this is such a kind, thoughtful message and i may or may not be squealing and kicking my feet over the fact that you're enjoying hitman's guide!! AHH dave york my beloved 🥺🫶 you're going to ace your midterms and dream sweet dreams of daddy dave for sure my love

hitman's guide!reader is one of my favourite girls!! she's so fun and matches him blow for blow, which was a blast to write!! most of that fic honestly comes from me listening to hozier on repeat because he is my muse.

the way "i'm in love with your brain" is the most beautiful compliment i could ever hope to receive. fuck i love you so much, that means everything to me. plus, asking me for book recommendations might just be the quickest and easiest way to my heart. i seriously love you for that. my taste in books is quite honestly all over the map. a couple of the texts that went into the lore for hitman's guide are:

richard iii AKA my favourite shakespeare play, myths like hades + persephone and icarus, paradise lost, the picture of dorian gray, etc. — very basic classic references but very fun to explore through murder daddy dave!

here are a few more reads that i love/generally live in my brain as i write:

dorian gray is one of my favourites and just so wilde at its core: the importance of being earnest is a play of wilde's that i truly love (and it's fucking hilarious too!). i would honestly recommend anything from the era of the aesthetes, decadents, and the new woman in the late-19th century. it's one of my favourite areas of literature to explore just because of how rich it is. arthur machen, vernon lee, ella hepworth dixon, etc. are all so fascinating to read, and FUN, too!! plus, flipping through volumes of the yellow book and the savoy is such a great experience; they've digitized all the editions of the yellow book, so you can read anywhere! i think aestheticism and decadence inspire a lot of how i write, and they're some of the most interesting literary and cultural revolutions of all time (in my opinion!).

i am a dracula (bram stoker) lover, i must say. vampires are sooo romantic. i adore this novel. the same goes for interview with the vampire by anne rice!!

the haunting of hill house and we have always lived in the castle are some of the best classics in the world if you ask me - i just love shirley jackson so much.

okay so now that i've rambled on, i hope you aren't super annoyed, but wow, thank you so so much for all of your support and for being so kind my friend!! have a kiss from me okay 🥹🫶

#kiwi goes wild with book recs #hitman's guide #dave york #kiwisbell answers

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ask-carmenpondiego · 15 days

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Chapter 19: The World Will always Need a Good Librarian

Weeks go by and the most progress Carmen and the others had gotten is that the holes do form a star alignment. M had held it up and the light shone through onto a table. “Thats why! It was backwards! I recognize this constellation now! But that doesn’t really tell us where this is. These stars can be seen all around.” Asta exclaimed, looking at a digital map and globe. Carmen peered over Asta’s shoulder to look. “But technically there are places where they are not. See? It never crosses over these few places. So it narrows our search, marginally but it still helps. And these lines look like a meteor shower. If we can figure out which one, that narrows it down further!”

Blendin had visited that day, he was seen swiveling back and forth on the kitchen barstool he brought in so he could watch. “Hey Mom? Can that light be dimmed a bit? The scroll looks a bit textured. Kinda looks like a map itself with the different thicknesses making shadows.” Their attention suddenly went to the light against the scroll and not what shined through on the table. Kiros adjusted the light as M kept hold of the hide. With the adjustment, more shadows formed to what did look like a near 3D render of a topography map. The inked dots lined up with where cities or villages may be. “Clever boy! I didn’t even notice that! Thats perfect! Now these locations may not exist any more but land mass may not have changed as much. Let’s get this matched up!” Carmen grinned excitedly as Blendin kicked his legs happily.

He found that he liked hanging out with the Agents when they weren’t all about being criminals. He still felt a moral divide with the fact his family was pretty much a non murderous mafia, in his opinion. He didn’t know if they collected protection money or threatened to steal things if demands were not met but seeing his mom surrounded by walking apocalypses, by his technical terms, that was all he could imagine. Outside crime, he liked everyone, save for M. Then again M was not the most open to friendships to most people. Blendin found him a bit more abrasive than everyone else. “Can I get a snack, Mom?” Carmen smiled and one arm hugged him, barely tall enough to kiss the top of his head, “Of course you can. You remember the way to the kitchen, right?” Blendin nodded and scampered out towards the snacks. “The kid has a good idea, how about we break for now and pick this up after a bit of a refresher? We have been at this for quite a while and my eyes are ready to bug out of my head.” Kiros chuckled. Drake and Vasha agreed and seemed to have already grabbed a couple of alcoholic drinks.

Blendin opened the fridge and poked around a bit, grabbing some starfruit and blueberries. Wally sat up from reading a book at the kitchen island, “Hey there Kiddo. I think you are like the first kid I’ve seen that doesnt go straight for junkfood.” Blendin sat opposite of Wally and popped a few berries into his mouth. “Eh, I just dont like junkfood. I’m a vegetarian so this naturally tastes better than greasy chips or candybars. I mean I like them as a treat but if theres fruit, I’ll take that first over junk.” Blendin shrugs, peering over to his dad’s book, “Whatcha reading?” Wally smiled and lifted the cover, “I’m catching up on your sister’s novels. This is just the first book. She seems to have a lot of fun if all this is true. I’m sure she embellishes some for the excitement of the reader but overall its fascinating!” Blendin nods, scrolling on his phone, “Yeah she takes her work pretty seriously. I mean we hang out sometimes but she’s either prattling on about work or complaining about something. I think she’s going into an emo or angry phase. She’s just so tempermental.” Wally thought a moment, “And she’s two or three years older than you.. oh I see. Mare issues. She’s probably inheriting her mom’s cycles. Moody and needy for companionship, and your mom’s can get pretty intense. Speaking of, hey Lekir! You all on a break or something?” Lekir was walking in with Asta, “Yeah we’re done for the day. Ninoga and Kiros are keeping Carm busy… its gonna be a while, the pirates are enjoying the show. Bug boy is brooding somewhere trying to find eye bleach again.” She reached over and stole a piece of Blendin’s starfruit with a wink, much to his protest. “Hey! I had plans for that!”

“You snooze, you lose, bud. There’s more in the fridge!” She called back as she followed Asta to their room. Wally laughed as Blendin pouted. “Were you looking for special treatment? You’re one of the family. They all pick on each other in a loving way.” Wally smiled, turning the page to his book. “Dad, does Mom ever hurt anyone or threaten people?” Blendin asked hesitantly, Wally looked up at the ceiling a moment before shrugging and shaking his head, “I don’t believe so. If she did, it would be unintentional. She would rather strike without warning but keep everyone alive and safe. I’ve heard people call her the thief with a heart of gold.” Blendin smiled, “So she’s not a mob boss?” Wally laughed, “She may have a crime family but she’s no mob boss. I swear she wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Don’t be too fuckin sure on that, she can have a mean right hook and a stinging slap when she wants.” M sauntered in and looked into the fridge, taking out a tupperware of odd looking dried meat. He leaned on the countertop and he gnawed on a piece. “Haven’t you and Mom been at each other’s throats since she came back from Siberia?” Blendin asked, trying to ignore the meat. M chuckled, “Don’t worry yer little twink head. We have our disagreements but she can’t resist my illustrious charm all the time.” Wally actually cackled, “Oh she can resist alright. Like full body shivers of disgust some days!!” Blendin frowned and asked, “Whats a twink?”

M pulled on the colt’s hoodie strings, making the hood cinch up around Blendin’s muzzle. “You’ll find out when yer older. Nothin to waste time worryin about right now.” He continued to chew on the dried meat for a bit more. “But yeh, she and I will be fine. Nothin ta worry about. She and I are dealing with a bit of a heavy side subject and tryin ta figure out how to fuckin deal with it before lettin anyone else in on it, to keep it from gettin too fuckin complicated. Ya know?” M picked out a piece of wood from his teeth and threw it in the trash.

Wally put his chin in his hand as he leaned on his elbow, “Does it perchance have to deal with that hunk of junk in your mech lab?” M waggled a piece of meat at his brother, “079 is not a hunk of junk, its just a self centered prick that has this attachment to Kiros for some forsaken reason.” Wally sipped his can of soda-pop. “I thought 079 is a nice ai. Its always nice to me, in a no nonsense way.” Blendin sighs, “I wish Mom would let me see the ai but she doesn’t think I’m old enough yet.” M roughly patted his back, “Probably for the best with how it is. It aint the easiest thing to get to know. And its also fer security reasons. She don’t let yer dad in there all the time either, just when he happens to be by her fuckin side does he get a chance to talk with it.”

“I dunno, it seems to be quite friendly to me. We always have a good time chatting.” Kiros chuckled, walking past, with a happy yet disheveled looking Carmen over his shoulder. Ninoga was following behind, “If you need us, we’ll be in the dungeon!” M drooped his shoulders, growling “Didja at least fuckin clean up in there?! I ain’t yer fuckin janitor!!” Carmen smirked as she hung over Kiros’s shoulder, she held up a middle finger and blew a sarcastic kiss to M just to rile him up even more, his insect chitter growing louder as he clenched his fists. “Mom has a dungeon? Like a brig or jail? Why would they be going there?? Did she do something wrong?” Wally and M both look at each other, M cackled loudly as Wally winces embarrassingly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Son, there are things that grown ups see as fun while kids like you find as punishments…” Blendin raises an eyebrow and glances over to M who had then started choking on his own spit from laughing so hard, punching his own chest to clear it up. “Like taxes?” Wally puts his hands together and to his lips as if to pray, and deeply inhales, “Nnnnnot quite. You see.. when a mare and a stallion like eachother alot..” Blendin slow blinks, “Mom and Lekir like eachother alot too. Just say its a mating thing. I’ll find out eventually.” Wally looked so relieved, “Oh thank Celestia. I thought I was going to need to give you the birds and bees talk.” Blendin shook his head, “I know biology but the details and subcategories haven’t been taught to me yet.” M catching his breath, still chuckling, leans on the kitchen island, “So you know what fucking is but don’t know the different combos that can be used in fucking. Got it. Hang around here, you’ll catch on quick.”

“She has a WHAT?! My stars.. they’re all just a bunch of criminal degenerates.. As your elder sibling, I forbid you from cavorting with the likes of them! What kind of role model is proud of being a sex crazed cat burglar?! I mean her last caper didn’t even make sense! A rusted box that she just went to destroy?! Is she going to destroy anything else?!” The young golden yellow pegasus paced around, screaming into her phone at her younger brother Blendin. She was just reaching her 18th birthday soon and she was almost free of possibly being in a criminal’s custody. She brushed her hair, the different dark silver and grey shades almost sparkled with just having been washed. “But I’ve spent time with her, she’s a good person! She actually cares about us!” Blendin’s voice came through the speaker as Daring still got ready for the day. “It may seem like that now but I promise you, she’s up to no good! She wants to use you and your Library knowledge to get your artifacts! Don’t freakin trust her or her goons! The sooner you cut ties, the better!” She huffs, glancing at the half opened box with an obsidian dragon in her closet and shuts the door. “Dare, she is really not that bad! She has fed me, shown me a lot of what you would consider secrets, even flown in her jet! I’ve seen her be protective! Even Dad vouches for her!” Blendin goes on as she sighs, “Blen, no. Don’t even count Dad into this. He hasn’t been there either for us, I can excuse the amnesia bit but he’s still too love blind to see what she’s doing to us! And she’s trying to blind you with shiny things to gain your trust into handing the entire Library to her! Why else would she stick us into these places if not to try to use us for easy access?!” She rubs her forehead, her feathers ruffled, “Blen, we have gone over this so many times! You’re just too young and naive to understand! I’ve been out in the world, you’re just starting to see it. Get more exposure of the real world without HER and then see what you’re being blind to.”

Blendin sniffles a bit, “I really hope you are dead wrong about her! She never puts me down like you do! She’s called me brilliant and clever! You just complain I’m too young and stupid! I know I’m not a prodigy explorer like you but you don’t have to treat me like that!” Daring winces, “Bro, I didnt mean it like that, you know that! I’m trying to protect you! You’re the only family I have!” Blendin sniffles a little more, “If you just give her a chance, you can have more than just me for family! You don’t have to do it all alone! You’re the one pushing away!” Daring snapped, “Its not that simple, okay?! Its not all happiness and rainbows! I’m sorry if I call you stupid but things like this you should be more smart with! Its not all found in books!” There was silence on the other end for a little while, “I… I think I better go, let you calm down a bit. I’ll talk to you later, Dare.” The phone clicked as the call disconnected. Daring threw her phone into her small mountain of pillows on her bed and sat at her little desk by her window, her typewriter sitting with a half page already written. She pushed it aside a little bit and set some books down, opening one to a page about legendary golden eggs of Babylon.

Blendin hung up the phone and sighed, looking at his dorm ceiling. He just didnt understand why Daring just didnt want to try getting to know her family more. Other than the stealing, he didn’t see what was so bad. He didn’t condone his mother’s crime sprees, but he saw that she was a good person over all.

A knock came from his door, a messenger handed him a letter when he answered, “The Keeper is giving you an assignment. Do your research and be prepared to depart by the date stated inside. Its your first one, Congrats, young Librarian!” Blendin beamed and thanked the messenger, closing the door before jumping around cheering. “I gotta tell Daring!.. I gotta tell Mom and Dad!!” He stopped and repeated as if just realizing for the first time, “I get to tell Mom and Dad..” he grinned and ran out of his room to the Ley travel doors, letter in hand. In the letter was his permit to use the doors to his needs.

At VILE HQ, Carmen and Lekir were just finishing up a sparring session for close combat. They had the sparring room littered with various padded objects like an obstacle course to simulate a crowded area. Carmen was more of the quick jab kickboxing type while Lekir preferred a more graceful tai chi approach. Carmen tried her stronger right hook as Lekir brushed it off and deflected, hooking her arm around and locking it, twisting and flung Carmen onto her back, hitting the ground with a grunt. The two girls breathed hard and took a break, laughing. Lekir grabbed Carmen’s hand and helped her to her feet as Blendin applauded, he had just seen the last bit of the fight and was highly entertained. “Hey Kiddo. Like how I just owned your mom?” Lekir laughed as Carmen punched her arm playfully, “Oh So you owned me? I’ll get you back for that.” Lekir raised an eyebrow and licked her muzzle hungrily, “Oh I’m sure you can try, but you know I dominate not only here but-“ Carmen laughs nervously and cuts her off, “So! What brings you around here unannounced, you usually give a heads up. Not that I mind, I just thought thats what you prefer.” Blendin bounced and holds up his letter, “I wanted to surprise you. I got my first assignment out into the world!! Its not for another six months or so but I need to do my research during the waiting period. I think its due to the location only being available during certain times. But I got in!! I’m a full Librarian now!” Carmen and Lekir both cheer as Carmen hugs him tight, “Oh my heavens! That is amazing!! Congratulations!! This is so wonderful!!” Lekir thought a moment, “We should celebrate with something special.. I know! Lets bring him to someplace authentic! Like Mexico or Italy! Where do you wanna go, Squirt?” Blendin adjusted his glasses, “Um.. I always wanted to try Korean HotPot.. their vegetables look so yummy there!” Carmen smiles, “South Korea it is! I think I know a good place in Seoul that you’ll love!” Blendin smiled, “Is it ok if I bring my best friend? He’s a Librarian too. He’s a mythical sphinx with Egyptian and Sumerian parents.” Carmen nodded, “Sure! The more the merrier! Tell you what, go get your friend and meet us back here in about an hour. And we’ll go get things set up with reservations. Ok?” Blendin nodded and grins, bouncing off back to his door portal. Lekir hangs her arm around Carmen’s shoulders, “You know you basically gave that boy a reason to ask his friend on a date, right?” Carmen chuckled knowingly. “I had a feeling, but I think he can handle it. He’s old enough to start figuring things out himself now. And what better way to test the waters than with some good news and good food?”

An hour later the front door glowed blue and Blendin peeked in and helped a young blindfolded winged feline across the threshhold. Blendin closed the door behind them and took off the blindfold, “Tahdah!! Look at this place! Isn’t it huge?!” The feline blinked and looked around, “Wow, its actually kinda modest. I was expecting a ginormous palace or something. Just reminds me of one of the big rich houses on old sitcoms, just modern.” Blendin grins and holds his hands in front of him, “Ok so… I know I said I wanted you to come with me for dinner, this isnt the restaurant. My parents and her group is joining us to celebrate. They offered to cover dinner and travel.” The Sphinx tilted his head, “I was gonna say, this place doesnt look like a hotpot place…. Holy shitake.. is that a demon?!… And a dragon?? TWO DRAGONS?! Dude… who the hell are your parents?!” He retreated behind the teal colt as he saw the VILE Agents start to heads toward the foyer in some of their nicer outfits. Carmen and Waldo walked out, she in a red and black blouse and pencil skirt and he was in his usual striped sweater and jeans. “Mom, Dad, Agents, this is Ty, my best friend. Ty, this is my family. Carmen Pondiego, Waldo Wander and the VILE Agents.” Blendin introduced everyone as Ty was still wide eyed. “Dude… you ARE aware your family is like… wanted in every country for grand theft, right?” Carmen chuckles and offers her hand to shake, “Ty, its a pleasure to meet you! We may be thieves but we’re probably the nicest and most honest thieves you’ll know.” Ty nervously shakes her hand as Blendin bounced, “So where’s the hotpot??” M tapped his wrist watch a bit. “Let’s see, its about 3am in Seoul. Lets speed that fuckin day up to say… 2pm? Was that the reservation?” Carmen looked at her phone, “Yep that should be right. Got the chronoskimmer warmed up?”

“Up and fuckin ready to roll.”

“Sounds good, ok kids, into the mech lab and load yourselves into the van.”

M rolled his eyes, “Its not a fuckin van, its just a pod, like an elevator. Its not that fancy yet. Not like a fuckin Delorean.”

Once everyone entered the mech lab, the roughly made multifaceted pod stood in the corner, just large enough to hold the entire group. M opened the tall hatch door letting everyone file in as he finalizes the destination and time. 079 looked less than thrilled. “Great, the circus is in town and the clowns are getting into their car..have a good show, dont get pie all over my consoles.” M flipped it off with his middle finger, “I’d offer you to come along but I ain’t gonna even miss ya, pixelbreath.” 079 sighed, “Oh please, do hesitate to call if you need me, rude one. I won’t be waiting up.”

With a flash, the group finds themselves in an empty alley near their venue in Seoul, South Korea, a few minutes before 2pm. The two young boys were looking at their phone clocks and looking around, “This is so lit! Its supposed to be in the middle of the night here!!” Ty exclaimed, Blendin looking at the sky and back to his phone, and over to M, “Uncle M, you did it! You actually made us go through time! This is amazing! Mom, after hotpot, can we go shopping?!” Ty’s face lit up, “Hey yeah! We could get some Korean manga and gachapon!” Blendin grinned excitedly, “Do you think they have the new anime figures out yet?! You know how Korea gets things way sooner than we do!” The two teens huddled together to excitedly discuss their current anime hyper-fixations, Lekir and Kiros gently nudged and herded them towards the restaurant. Carmen met the hostess with a bow and spoke Korean to her, explaining her reservation. The hostess was surprised and pleased, requesting them to follow her to their reserved dining room. As they were seated, they were presented with drinks and menus, the table having two heating plates and one large grill in the center. They were instructed how to use everything and how to cook everything. Within moments, the food and broths were served and the group feasted and cooked the foods.

There were laughters and conversations between them all, even Ty was warming up to everyone, asking some curious questions about different strengths and powers, while Blendin was trying to explain his first assignment to his parents, asking for pointers on how to prepare for it. What they found was that his assignment was very similar to the duck hunt they were on. Blendin got worried that both missions may disrupt eachother. Carmen put her hand on his and smiled, “Hey, don’t worry. We will figure something out one way or another. We’re looking for a duck and some regular eggs, you’re looking for some golden eggs. They seem to be from the same region so we can collaborate as much as we can without interfering with your Library mission. I just wish your sister was here to celebrate.” Blendin rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, about that. She refuses to be in the same room as you. She tried to forbid me from even seeing you. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t see what a good person you are. She’s more furious with you than dad, she just thinks he had amnesia and that you blinded him with love for your own gain. And she thinks that you are trying to blind me with good parenting just so you can get into the Library.” Carmen and Wally chuckle, “I have thought about hitting the Library a long long time ago but with their security and what they do to help protect the world, I’d rather save the library from other thieves rather than steal from it myself. I have too much respect for it and the Warehouse. Which is why I sent you kids there. I knew they would raise and educate you two the best way that I couldnt. I’m still trying to figure out what happened. I didnt feel like it was a safe environment for some young foals. We had to move the mansion around more than once because of some close calls but where its at now is the safest place we have. And you two are old enough to technically take care of yourselves. I just want to be a part of your lives before mine is over.” Carmen sneaks a glance at M who looks back at her then look away and busies himself with drinking nearly a whole pint of ale.

Blendin smiles and uses his chopsticks to grab some mushrooms from the grill and sets them on his plate with some daikon glazed with sauce. “We got a long time for that! I’m not even 18 yet! And unicorns technically would have a pretty good lifespan compared to other ponies. Not by much but a good few years longer. It might be due to their magic. How come I don’t see you use your magic, Mom? You always do it all the manual way.” Carmen sputters her drink a little, not expecting the subject. “Uum.. well. I was born with a bit of a handicap that got worse with the issue of a past trauma I had to deal with when you were an infant.” She clears her throat, realizing she hasnt spoken about it in years. “Let’s just say I’m unable to use magic without the attempt putting me into a coma. But you can! I’m so glad you can use your magic!” Blendin smiles but felt guilty for bringing it up due to her reaction, “I’m sorry, I didnt know.” Wally patted his back, “Hey, thats why you asked. You didnt know and thats ok. Its good to ask. Some people may not be ready to answer and they will let you know the best way they can. Ok? Nothing to be sorry about.” Blendin nodded, looking over to Ty. “I think I have one more question but I’ll need to wait for the right time for that.” Carmen smirks, “Take all the time you need, theres no rush. Especially when it comes to love.” Blendin looks at his mother, and blushes with a smile when she winks back, sipping her wine.

#mlp oc pony #carmen pondiego #ask blog #story update #ao3 fanfic #blendin #marehem #waldo #daring do #chronoskimmer

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nyalternatehellkitten · 19 days

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@madharemuses replied to your post “((I have a headache so I'm watching an FE:Engage...”:

[I want to enjoy Engage. I like the art design, I like the characters, I like the gameplay, but for some reason I just can't really bring myself to enjoy it. Also, it lacks replay value compared to most previous titles, so I feel like I spent too much on it.]

@gensokyogarden replied to your post “((I have a headache so I'm watching an FE:Engage...”:

ENGAGE GOOD

((Ayyyy we have the big two(tm) opinions here! Joking aside, I reply to these responses in the same post because I want to share some general thoughts. I'm not trying to pit you against each other by highlighting your opposing opinions lmao. Even though it's been a few days, Engage has been swirling around in my head for about a week or so now, and I do want to give my thoughts to you two, who responded to me, at least, so that post I made doesn't just become a big jebait or whatever the term is. So, spoilers, Zane's thoughts, and etc. etc. beneath the cut. Oh yeah, and it's long so don't read it unless you want to know what I think of a game I've not played, that a lot of people have been dismissive towards.))

I am writing this across several sittings. At the time of writing this statement, I'm watching the Avalanche map, so basically I'm right near the end. (I've also seen some supports, but the guy whose playthrough I'm watching is doing them offsceen because he doesn't want to waste his audience's time with grinding.)

This isn't going to be a structured review, it's more of a slightly-edited thought-dump.

My overall thoughts of this game so far, which is an impression unlikely to change, is this:

Fire Emblem Engage is a game unfairly criticised as worse than it actually is. It's not a super good game, but it does not fall as far below the 'average' standards of the series as much as people say it does.

Before I get into the full swing of things, I need to offer a disclaimer: I am out of touch with the series. I've played FE3-12 and Echoes, which means I'm missing FE1, the game that started it all, and Awakening and Three Houses, two immensely popular games that made big changes to the way Fire Emblem works, brought many new people to the fanbase, and generated a lot of attention. (I also haven't played Fates, but it's a bit less relevant to what I have to say.) I have never been interested in Awakening or Three Houses, but they changed the Fire Emblem 'landscape' so much that I would consider myself out-of-touch simply because I haven't played them.

Addressing some common criticisms

The two main complaints I see first-and-foremost on the internet that dominate over the better-formulated criticisms are: It's too anime and the writing sucks.

Now, the anime thing is stupid. Fire Emblem has always been anime; it's a stale and tasteless counter-argument, but it's objectively true. Most Fire Emblem games at least partially reflect the anime style popular around the time they were made, and all of them draw some influences from anime in general. The designs are too colourful and fancy for my taste, but I still find them enjoyable (Chloe and Etie are probably my favourites? Not super fond of Etie's Archer outfit but the player I'm watching made her a Warrior and she looks fine). In fact, I think this design choice was good; they clearly wanted to deviate from the grimness and seriousness of Three Houses, and can they be blamed for that? Making that sort of story can get heavy at times, so for an anniversary game I feel like going for something lighter was the right choice. Overall, the presentation in this game is excellent; not enough to make me love it like I loved Echoes (which was carried by the presentation alone for me), but good enough that I enjoy seeing it on my screen.

The second criticism is the writing, which is semi-valid. It's almost-good in a lot of places, but there's always one or two tiny details holding it back in my eyes. It's frustrating, because I feel like Engage would actually be quite well-written with a few fairly small edits that remove some of the issues or make the stupid parts (Chapter 10-11 Time Crystal) less stupid. The issue I have with the criticism is not that it's wrong, it's that people act like all of the other games in the series are god-tier writing or something. This is objectively untrue; most Fire Emblem stories are fairly straightforward or cliche plots carried by a cast of one-note, but enjoyable and likeable characters. Liking the characters makes you overlook the flaws in the plot. Just think about how many Fire Emblem games are about awakening or summoning some kind of all-powerful dragon or dark god (or both), and then think about how often that actually bothers you simply because you like some of the characters.

Let's talk about the writing for a moment, since this is an RP blog and therefore revolves around writing

It sounds to me like Engage's writing is actually really average by Fire Emblem standards (it can't be worse than the GBA games at least, if you ask me) but it's issue is that it came after Three Houses, a game which tried to be very different from the rest of Fire Emblem when it comes to writing. I haven't played Three Houses but I have seen people react to it. The amount of time people spend debating and arguing over who's in the right or wrong, beyond just which lord/house they like, shows that the game provoked more thoughts from its players than just "Oh I like this character more than this other character." Engage clearly has not done this, and parts of it that could form a good running theme just don't quite connect. The dots don't quite link up and the stars don't quite align. It falls just short.

In my head, I'm comparing it with other Fire Emblem games and I don't think it's that much worse than some (fairly well regarded) entries in the series. For example, in FE7, everything Ephidel does doesn't really make sense since he's formenting a rebellion in Lycia to gather Quintessence for Nergal to summon dragons... even though Nergal already has enough Quintessence to summon a dragon. In Sacred Stones, Eirika is supposed to be the diplomacy route, and yet everywhere she goes, stuff(tm) happens and she gets dragged into fights because Fire Emblem requires things.exe to happen so that each chapter can be a fight. In Binding Blade, the big exposition was Jahn explaining Idoun's backstory... through the medium of Roy seizing like 20 thrones in one chapter. In Monshou, the big main idea of Hardin being turned evil was great and executed pretty well, but most chapters are "So you're fighting dudes loyal to Medeus or Hardin" and the story is mostly about Marth trying to figure out what's going on in Akaneia. It's not bad, but it's hardly some god-tier story that has the player hanging off the edge of their seat at every chapter.

By comparison, Engage has an issue with build-up and payoff. The payoffs are often good, but the build-ups often don't do them justice. For instance, Morion was a good payoff because while what happened to him was quite predictable, Alchryst and Diamant's boss conversations with him are great. What's lacking is the fact that he gets captured by Hyacinth like... one chapter after he's introduced, after raising a million death flags. If he had been a green unit (or even a playable character with a big "Morion will go back to ruling his kingdom after next chapter" warning, or his stats transferring over to Diamant like with Nils and Ninian in FE7) for a while to let the player get to know him better, then his death would have been more impactful. Let Alear agree or argue with him about certain things; Alear needs to interact with Morion's pretty strong force of personality (that I think is pretty well demonstrated, even if it's quite one-note, in his first appearance).

Likewise, Lumera died too quickly. We needed a few more chapters for her and Alear's relationship to ripen. If the game had opened with Alear sent to Firine (upon Alfred's request, to help deal with Corrupted and bandits), with Lumera accompanying them but not helping them in battles to help him readjust to being awake, then it would have probably worked out better pacing-wise. Little happens character-wise in those chapters, so slotting in some Alear-Lumera interactions would have helped establish Alear's personality and motivations for the rest of the game. After Firine, they could return to Lythos for a little bit of R&R with Lumera promising to teach Alear more about the Emblems. Then the attack happens, she dies before she can, and the game proceeds with Brodia after that. It makes Lumera more impactful because the player gets to see her relationship with Alear more, and it makes their feelings for her stronger too, since they now have time to experience how she's their mother and acts like it.

One last example I will give is Zephia. Her whole death scene is kind of invalidated by the fact that she's been speaking as if the Hounds are her family for the whole game. I think a little tweak could really have fixed it. Take 'family' to be the theme of the story; a lot of Fire Emblem games place emphasis on bloodlines and family. Engage could have taken that both ways: that sometimes, blood family is important (e.g. the royal sibling pairs in the game) but sometimes your found family is just as important (Lumera and Alear) and sometimes your family can be abusive and bad for you (Sombron and Veyle, Zephia and Marni). How does Zephia fit into this? Well, imagine if her dialogue was tweaked ever so slightly. The idea is that she misunderstands how family should be because of Sombron (what he said during the time travel part). She longs for a real family, but because of Sombron she thinks that family should be abusive. Seeing Alear and Veyle helps her appreciate what family should be, and she helps them because of that. She dies thanking Griss, and hoping that Marni will forgive her in the afterlife. There we go, a villain given a better redemption than the weird one she got in the game, and completing a theme/story/lesson for the game as a whole.

Zephia also suffers from the buildup thing. The Hounds have a lot of screentime but they don't really do much with it; Griss and Zephia get their motivations and backstories infodumped as they die, and Mauvier spends the first half of his appearances being all "I am a knight I follow orders" when he should have been dropping hints that his true loyalty was to Veyle, rather than just mechanically following orders. If some of that screentime had been used to develop that Marni wants familial love, while Zephia misunderstands what a family should be, and Griss thinks of Zephia as his mother/older sister but struggles to convey that since his world is dull when he's not feeling pain, then it would have made them more compelling than the four big mooks you knock over 13 times throughout the story. Oh yeah, and of course, they do the "I must retreat" thing way too often. Fighting them feels completely insignificant because they never die until they suddenly do.

Lastly, the characters are all quirky and... oh boy. I've seen people complain that the Engage characters are more one-note crazy than usual. That... doesn't feel true to me. They feel like they're less serious than usual, but that's Engage being light-hearted. I've seen serious stuff (Alfred's illness, Hortensia's feelings about stuff) but mostly it seems to be on the lighter side. I don't mind, but I think it should have perhaps been a bit more of a balance. I will say this thought: of the supports I have seen, character motivations at least seem to make sense and stay decently consistent.

Some of my other criticisms

I would argue that there are a few things holding the game back. The writing, I have already mentioned. While there are plenty of good individual moments, there's often a lack of good build-up or connectedness that makes the whole feel like wasted potential and staleness. The gameplay, I think might actually be the most tactical in any Fire Emblem game so far; you can't just air-drop a god-unit into any situation with 1-2 range as easily because of Weapon Triangle breaking, and chain strikes mean that positioning actually matters, and tanking isn't infinite. This might not be a good thing, however, as I get the feeling that the average casual Fire Emblem player... doesn't care about gameplay much. It can't suck, but a lot of the time they do just want to make their favourite unit into a god and drop them into whatever situation.

One of the biggest problems is the Emblems, however. They're not really written as themselves. They're more like echoes or shadows or ghosts of the character they're meant to be. They often feel like they were written by someone who'd only read a synopsis of what that character was like, instead of seeing and analysing them (which... is probably what happened). The Emblem ring bond supports are bland and soulless most of the time, with often no connection between the character and the Emblem based off their commonalities (though to be fair, writing 12 Emblem supports for each character would have been hell). Regardless, all of the Emblem characters feel way too superficial to actually matter most of the time, they mostly exist to reference their own games a lot or provide the same basic statements about things. The advice they offer in the story is... logical but kind of bland and uninteresting. Sometimes they feel right, but most of the time they feel... not very good, which is not great when they're meant to be a big selling point of the game. It's like the Emblems are supposed to make you so excited about seeing your favourite characters that you don't stop to think if they're acting in-character. I won't comment on them too much gameplay wise, since I think that as much as they are meant to somewhat represent their own games (e.g. Sigurd being mobility and canter, Lucina having dual strike stuff) there's a limit to what you can do since most Fire Emblem games play quite samey.

Another issue I think that Engage has is the lack of post-game. Relying on DLC and Multiplayer to create replayability for a single-player game is just... objectively a bad idea? It's not what people are mostly there for. Watching the playthrough made me think "If I were playing this game, I'd want to run some of the other characters in side battles to see their supports and find out more about them." A post-game would be good for that, maybe with a bonus series of maps like Thabes was in Echoes. As it is, I've seen no evidence of that sort of thing.

I want to say some nice things

So I actually quite like Alear. Not a lot a lot, but a fair lot, if that makes sense. Based on everything shown about past Alear, and the way Alear loses their memories, their character makes sense for most of the game. Past Alear was emotionally stunted because Sombrero is the worst Fire Emblem dad in the series, and present Alear has a serious case of no-thoughts-head-empty at the start of the game. Given that everyone treats them super well (worships even...), it makes sense for them to develop a positive outlook on life, a strong fondness of their friends, a solid sense of duty towards everyone counting on them, and also feel kind of creeped out at being worshipped. Alear also feels a little more complete as a main character to me, oddly enough? I haven't played those games so I can't say for sure, but Robin and Corrin both often gave me a weird vibe like they're meant to be the player's self-insert but didn't commit to it enough. Like they wanted to make a self-insert character but then realised they needed to insert more character for supports, interactions, and story beats. Alear, on the other hand, feels like they wrote a complete character and then had to shove the self-insert in, to their detriment.

I also need to talk about Yunaka. I think Yunaka did something no other Fire Emblem side character (non-main character) has ever done: she immediately made me want to read about her supports to learn more about her backstory. Most Fire Emblem characters show up and I'm like "Okay, so this is this character's vibe. I'll find out more in the supports, I bet." Yunaka though... as soon as I heard her battle/crit quotes and saw how much that differed from the quirky "OwO I am cute thief" personality she was projecting, I was immediately like "There's more here. I need to know what her deal is." The game immediately shows that she's good at acting, and as soon as you put her into combat you see a side of her completely different from the one you saw before, and that sparks curiosity. That's good. Fire Emblem doesn't do that, instead it tries to establish the one note that its one-note characters are based around in a good way so that the player knows what that character's deal is. This time, it did that, and more. I haven't seen all of Yunaka's supports yet, but I will go through all of them when I get the chance to. I must know.

The music and voice acting are pretty good. The presentation and CG art is good. I don't think I need to elaborate on this, I think they're presented in a way that accentuates the atmosphere they're trying to create most of the time.

I'm hesitant about this last bit, but I think the game conveys its characters well. This is something Fire Emblem has never really had trouble doing, so it's not really a thing in Engage's favour, it's just another thing the game is not bad at. The supports (or those that I've seen at least) are good at showing what each character's deal is. That's not hard to do, though it is occasionally not done well (Vaida and Dorcas... a support that shows what their characters are like, but repeats the same joke dragged out three times in a row without really resolving anything).

Edit: Oh, and I can't believe I forgot to say that the really cheesy and campy moments are amusing rather than cringe to me. I think they just barely toe the line at times, but like... given how often the games try to shoehorn the 'Fire Emblem' into it, this really isn't even the worst.

Conclusion

This is the part where I pretend to have a conclusion so it feels structured. I already said what I needed to say at the start, so this is the part I put a bow on it.

I feel like it's hard for me to assess this game. I haven't played it, and I haven't played Awakening and Three Houses, two games that I feel like probably influenced both the fanbase and Engage a lot. But I can't help but feel like it's better than all of the hate it gets. I don't really think it's god tier, but it's definitely not as bad as it's said to be. I think if I did have the opportunity to play it though, I'd enjoy it at least as much as I enjoyed FE6, FE8, and FE11. With the others I played, I think it'd be a bit more up in the air.

If I had to say though, there's enough problems for it to be disappointing, but enough good for it to not warrant the amount of hate I've seen. I feel like the hate it gets is often an instinctual rather than logical thing; rarely do I see people fully explain how they feel, and sometimes some of the people criticising it talk like they're series veterans but it turns out they've played like... 4 games. Still, I can't help but feel like if this game came out after Fates rather than Three Houses, people would have a better view of it.

#ooc #madharemuses #gensokyogarden #((idk why I bothered with this))#((I've been unable to play games and do stuff very freely lately))#((so all of my free time has been watching an Engage playthrough))#((so I think it's been big on my mind lately))#((as I'm writing this I have reached the final episode))#((I doubt my thoughts will change))#((if they do I'll make an edit))#((but like this is a 2 and a half hour thing))#((not waiting that long to write my conclusion))#((kitty is doing his 'I want attention' wail outside my door))

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k3yreviewer25 · 8 months

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written for @b1rdza's mtiys prompt of 'first kiss'

i know I'm super late to the party with this, but writings been really hard recently for some reason and i got tired of looking at this, so 👍

"Okay, truth or dare?"

"Uhhhhh, truth."

"Are you sick of playing this game yet?"

"Yes."

"... Guess we should've brought a pack of cards or something, huh?"

Tubbo rolled his head over to look at Ranboo, curled up on his own cot on the other side of the room. With the mansion being basically completed, the two of them had decided to spend a night in it, get a feel for the space. What they hadn't accounted for was getting sleepover jitters. And with their new bedroom being so freaking huge, they'd both agreed that sleeping in the closet would feel more cozy.

Tubbo sat up. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I mean, sleep, obviously, but-" Ranboo sat up as well. "-I think I might remember the way up to the roof? If you wanna stargaze."

That did sound pretty nice. Tubbo began gathering up his blanket. "Yeah, sure."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He shouldn't have trusted Ranboo of all people when he said he remembered the way up there. After at least ten minutes of walking, Tubbo was pretty sure they'd gone down a floor. Eventually, they ended up in the kitchen, which had been partially furnished with cabinets and a fridge.

"So this is, um, this isn't it," Ranboo said. "Oops."

"Yeah, no kidding." Tubbo began rooting through random cabinets. "Maybe Foolish left snacks, or something though- Oh! Bingo!"

Straightening up, he held up an unopened wine bottle. Ranboo looked dubious. "Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, with going on the roof and all?"

"One bottle between the two of us is hardly gonna do anything, believe me," Tubbo said. "But if you want, we could just go back to bed and hang out there."

Ranboo nodded. "Yeah, that sounds fine. And I, um, I don't think I remember how to get up to the roof anyway."

"Maybe we can get Foolish to draw us a map."

They managed to get back to their room all right, thankfully. Back in the closet, Tubbo dragged his cot over next to Ranboo's and pried the cork out of the bottle. The wine was pretty good, as far as wines went; tasted like sweet berries. He passed it to Ranboo and watched him take a swig.

"You know, only a few more days, and then we can start actually moving in here," Tubbo mused. "Crazy, right?"

"Yeah, seriously. Feels like not that long ago when you first started Snowchester."

Well, all things considered, it really hadn't been all that long ago, had it? A couple months. And with all that had happened in those couple months, time had just flown by. It was like a whole year's worth of life had gone by. Ranboo handed the bottle back. Tubbo took it, but didn't drink.

"Hey, Ran?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"Wanna play truth or dare some more?"

"Really man?"

"But-" Tubbo held up a finger for emphasis. "-there's a pass option. You can either answer the question / do the dare, or you can take a drink. Whoever's drank less by the end wins."

After a moment of pondering, Ranboo nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"Great! So, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Do you actually like my cooking?"

"Um, I, uh- pass?"

Tubbo clicked his tongue as he handed the bottle back over. "For shame, man, for shame. After all the love I put into those meals."

"And all the salt."

"Food needs salt, dude!"

"Not that much-" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to use less salt next time you cook."

"Pass!" The next sip went down even smoother than the first. The inclusion of alcohol was already making this more fun than before. "Truth or dare?"

"I'll also go dare."

"Dare you to let me message someone on your comm."

"...Deal."

He'd thought for sure that that would've been a pass. Now he just had to actually come up with something.

"I'm already regretting this," Ranboo said, watching Tubbo warily.

"Oh, come on, would I ever do anything to embarrass you?" He grinned as Ranboo gave him a flat stare. Drafting up a quick message, he sent it and handed the comm back. "And you have to wait for him to see it before you send another message."

Ranboo groaned when he looked at the screen. "Really? Techno?"

"Yup. So?"

"Truth or dare?"

As the game went on, the bottle got lighter and lighter, and Tubbo's head got more and more airy, until finally there was only a single sip left. Tubbo swished it around absentmindedly, the bottle's neck loose in his hand.

"Wait, is it my turn or yours?" Ranboo asked. One fun thing they were learning tonight was that apparently alcohol did not help his memory problems in the slightest.

"I think yours." Of course, the alcohol wasn't really helping Tubbo's memory either. "Truth or dare?"

"I'll go......... truth."

"Have you..." Prime, he was so tired. He needed to come up with some question to make Ranboo pass so that they could finish the bottle. "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"Oh, um-" His cheeks were a beautiful shade of magenta. "Yeah."

The bottle almost slipped out of his hand. "Wait, really?"

"You don't have to sound that surprised," Ranboo huffed, crossing his arms. "I had a life before I came here. I wasn't just- just sitting in a room eating crackers for 16 years."

"I know, I know, I just didn't really- I dunno, I've never really thought about it."

"About what, me kissing people?"

"I guess so." Though, now that he had thought about it- "You any good at it?"

That was a weird question, wasn't it? Ranboo shrugged. "I dunno, I guess?"

"You guess."

"I mean, I didn't really, like, ask for feedback or anything. We just kinda- it happened and then we moved on." He shook his head. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"Pass!" Chugging the last sip, he set the bottle on the floor and flopped onto his back. "G'night!"

"Oh. Yeah, good- good night." Ranboo's cot creaked as he got himself settled onto it. "And, um, sorry if that was out of line. The question, I mean."

Tubbo snorted. "Nah, it's fine. Just wanted an excuse to drink. If you're actually curious, I haven't."

"Oh. Are you, like, not interested, or..."

"I mean, I wouldn't say I'm not interested, just been pretty busy for like- past couple years, ya know? Kinda hard to fit in smooching between the wars and shit. And it's not like anyone was lining up for it or anything."

"I can imagine. About the wars and stuff, not- Sorry, that didn't come out right."

"I get it, man, I get it," Tubbo said, waving a hand. "Not like I'm winning any beauty pageants any time soon."

"You know that's not what I meant." He sounded so offended that Tubbo rolled over to face him.

"I know, I know, I'm just teasing. I know you find me irresistibly attractive." Even in the dark, he could see the blush spreading over Ranboo's face. He was practically glowing. "You're pretty when you blush."

Prime, he really needed to not talk when he'd been drinking. But Ranboo did look pretty, the purplish hue really bringing out the vibrancy of his eyes. He was like a big glow stick. A really pretty, really tall glow stick.

"I think you're pretty too. Or, um, handsome, I guess is- would be a better word."

Tubbo's stomach twisted; ugh, he'd probably drank too much. He rolled onto his back. "You don't have to say that. I'm not gonna get offended or anything."

"But I do," Ranboo said, propping himself up on his elbow. "I really do think you're handsome."

He really did sound earnest about it too. But he had to be lying, if not maliciously, then out of nicety. "Right, five things, go."

"What?"

"Five things that you think make me handsome or whatever."

"Oh, easy." He leaned over Tubbo, an unfamiliar intensity in his eyes, and counted on his fingers. "One, you have really nice eyes-"

Only one eye, really.

"-Two, I like your nose-"

What was left of it.

"-Three, you have really cute ears-"

Well, okay, that was a given. Goat ears were adorable.

"-Four, I think your scars look really badass-"

"Wow, a rare swear from Mr. Ranboo Beloved."

"'Ass' isn't really a swear though? And five, you're confident and smart and I- I really admire that." There he was again, sounding so damn sincere. He must be at least a little bit sincere, because he'd rattled those off so quickly. And he was actually looking Tubbo in the face, which he never did. Tubbo's stomach swooped as Ranboo bent down towards him. "And- and if no one else is in line for it, I would really like to kiss you."

It didn't surprise Tubbo like he thought it would. Maybe because he's imagined Ranboo saying it before. But in all those imaginings, Tubbo always said something suave in return, made Ranboo blush, and then swept him off his feet. Now his mouth was dry as he croaked out, "Y-yup. Sounds good."

It was only when Ranboo's face was an inch away from his that he remembered to close his eyes, cause lord knows he didn't want to be the guy that kept his eyes open during a kiss, and then lips were pressed to his.

It wasn't- bad, he didn't think, though the taste of the wine on their breaths was a bit overwhelming. Shit, they really should've brushed their teeth first.

A tingle ran down his spine as Ranboo's hand slid around the back of his head, pulling him in closer, fingers tangling in his hair-

Wait, should he be doing something with his hands? They were just folded over his stomach, suddenly feeling all too heavy and tense. Raising a hand, he slowly moved it up to Ranboo's face, careful that he didn't end up poking him in the eye or something. His cheek was smooth, and fit so well into Tubbo's palm.

And then, all too soon, Ranboo's lips left his, though he kept his forehead pressed tight against Tubbo's. This was nice too; just feeling the breath on his face, and the fingers combing through his hair.

Yeah, he could totally get used to this.

#cbeeduo #hope this is actually good I've gone blind to it at this point

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livinginthefifthdimension · 5 months

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hi hi hi for the send me a number microstory! My boi miroku and whoever tickles your fancy, #30: sweat

This was supposed to be a micro/drabble. But like... shhhh. Also, if you see a typo?? no you didn't

This was not what he expected when Kagome invited him over last week. She’d strolled into their home–his home—with treats in hand and a large smile splitting across her face. According to Kagome he would officially be twenty four summers old come nightfall. He’d been born in late summer with nothing more than the knowledge that the moon waxed to mark the occasion. But Kagome had a thing for time maps, or calendars as she called them, and she was obsessive in her time keeping. Late nights spent counting backwards and obsessing over long rolls of parchment all came to a head months after she began her endeavors.

Kagome had appeared on his doorstep the week after Sango disappeared, her excitement living in the balls of her feet. She stood in stark contrast to the man who existed before her, leaning in the doorway of a home that symbolized a forever cut short, and yet, they stood in solidarity, both clinging too tightly to a reality they could no longer return to.

He’d accepted her gift that night and every night of every 25th night of muggy “July” that passed from then on.

So, when Kagome came by to invite him over he was sure that the day would pass with laughter and too much rice wine shared between three adults. In the dark of night, long after they’d forced the last of it down and fallen out where they sat, he would realize that he’d brought over enough for four.

It was something he couldn’t seem to stop doing.

Today the duo’s hut was sweltering. The fire was roaring in the hearth, kissing the iron cauldron that bubbled with something that smelled like beef stew. Kagome stared into the concoction as if it spoke to her, her tongue running comically along her bottom lip as the smell wafted upwards and wound around her like tentacles. Running his wrist across his forehead to stop the sweat beading at his hairline, Miroku began hunting for a spot that would not leave him drenched.

Only for InuYasha to stop him at the door, a pinched expression making him look more unfriendly than usual.

“We need to talk.”

His words were so simple, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made Miroku nervous. Bundled his clammy fists in the cotton of his robes, he stepped outside with his old friend–desperate to hold himself together no matter what came next. For three years InuYasha and Kagome had been a constant presence in his life. It was only natural that one day that support would end. They’d need to live their own lives eventually. It was only ever a matter of time.

“Kagome is pregnant.”

His words tasted like bile, like goodbye, and Miroku wished he could force InuYasha to swallow the rest of it. He didn’t want anyone else to walk away.

But he couldn’t beg them to stay anymore than he could simply let them go.

Last month he’d seen his daughters. They called another man papa, barely referring to him as anything more than ‘monk’ when they referred to him. Their younger brother, a half a year older than the anniversary of Sango’s departure, did not share a single feature with him or her.

And InuYasha and Kagome had sat with him through it, sipping their drinks and staring blankly at the wood as he processed.

Miroku licked the sweat from his top lip, swallowing hard.

“Congratulations.”

None of this mattered. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it. They’d given him more than he could ask for, stood behind him like pillars, but even stone eroded away. So, in spite of the nausea rocking his stomach, he continued. “Here’s hoping that it’s the first of many. You and Kagome will be pretty busy very soon.”

Holding tighter only ever hurt more in the end. With a cleansing breath, Miroku prepared himself for goodbye. Sweat dripped down his neck and made his palms sticky and uncomfortable, but he was finally ready and that was enough for the moment.

“I mean…I guess.” For all of Miroku’s trepidation, InuYasha seemed unbothered. He shrugged off the double meaning Miroku had dipped his words in, rinsing the narrative clean with his plain way of speaking. “But like…how hard can it be between the three of us?”

#you got family vibes #inuyasha #miroku #kagome

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topshelfworlds · 2 months

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BEYOND THE TABLE: REALITY, THE SECONDARY WORLD, AND THE ROLE OF THE DUNGEON MASTER

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DEFINITIONS

(Primary) Reality – whatever this is, just read some metaphysics or some shit

The Secondary World – the Other Realm, the place beyond Primary Reality bridged by Imagination

The Table – Imagination; the veil of play-space wherein the Secondary World makes contact with Primary Reality

Campaign – an excursion into the Secondary World via Imagination, obfuscated from Primary Reality by the friction between Gameplay, Simulation, and Narrative

adjudication – the process of mitigating friction between Gameplay, Simulation, and Narrative

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My most recent ex all but annihilated me last October with the contents of an amicable text message. Over the previous few months, we’d been slowly repairing our communication enough to plan cat-care responsibilities. By all accounts, it should have been a completely normal interaction following a breakup just finding its footing: she had unearthed index cards encoded with statistics for magic items her character acquired in my since-canceled campaign from among her effects and buried the small-bore offer of their return for my records under discussion of scheduling time for me to see Mr. Kitty.

I fell apart.

Background

The fantasy adventure campaign the cards originated from was easily the most ambitious – and quite possibly most successful – design of any game I’ve constructed in my near-15 years of facilitating TTRPGs: what started as a weekly Thursday meetup running dungeon crawls by the book for some co-workers quickly became a West Marches game with a roster 12–14 players deep across 2 regular play-groups using a hacked-up mish-mash system I built on the fly week-by-week. The scale was magnificent to behold, our hex map slowly blossoming as the players peeled at petals to see what the flower of this mythic land looked like inside. Nearing a year removed from those adventures, I am proud of what we accomplished to this day.

Session was an opportunity to run from the deep problems festering in my relationship; I had just moved into my partner's run-down, dream project home with her & absconded from any deeper thinking about the friction that had been building over the previous year, instead fixating on clear records of narrative timelines, dungeon excursions, side-quests, character relationships, and world events. When I made time for (free) labor around our changing living space, I permitted resentment to simmer: that my passion – being the best facilitator of this emergent fiction I could – was secondary to the dreams of my property-owning partner. When I surprised her with completed projects from her list around the house while she was away, anything less than her utter amazement left a bitter taste in my mouth. I let slip passive-aggressive moans at never having time for the prep work that made me happy, lacking the insight to realize the game was a shield against the loneliness I felt in my relationship.

This was also my then-partner’s third Campaign of mine played in 2 ½ years. A stand out from the start, she rarely took time to understand the game outside of session for her natural ability to process mechanics and draw narrative details from thin air; creative writing and an overachieving academic streak gave her a leg up when attuning to the role she played in the group’s function. Piloting a campy, edge-adjacent build played with deadly seriousness, she worked from the shadows to accomplish her goals, maneuvering the roster’s characters as means to her ends. I was proud of her for this, the scheming and the side-quests and the subtlety, because she was playing the game and well. I could never get over the gnawing feeling that participating in the Campaign wasn’t her desire, though, but that a sense of duty absent of passion for my interests brought her to the Table; like she felt that playing was important because it was my game, and not because she was having a good time. I could never tell if she was having a good time.

When my partner and I separated last April, I disbanded the company of cordial comrades who attentively arrived to each session, oathsworn that our jaunts through The County of Blunderburry in Esterdale would continue at another time; The Secondary World moved and changed even when our minds’ eyes were occupied, I insisted, and each future visit was a promise of new ideas, of change. It wasn’t until months later that I let on to some of the game-regulars the real reason why I called our grand adventure off, well after I had found temporarily stable ground post-life-collapsing-around-me.

Judgment

In the fallout of the breakup and upkeep of coordinating kitty care, I had completely forgotten that she had the cards, physical cues marking her in-game possession of the artifacts statted on them. Rather than answering the inconsequential question raised for me of the cards’ fate, I fell headlong into debilitating anxiety catalyzed by months of emotional turmoil, seeing past the oversight in my facilitation to the now-painful memories of hours spent at the table reaching into the Secondary World with her. My binder stuffed with dog-eared notes chronicling the escapades of the roster had gone untouched in months for the same reason; confronting the hurt inside those records of her achievements in my game was something I was not ready to bear.

I agonized over the “right” answer to her offer, begging myself to conjure something satisfactory to my principles. The way I understood the scenario, there were 2 outcomes:

• I take the cards

• She keeps the cards

These outcomes were further layered by the intentions associated with the choice:

• I take the cards...

… because they are sentimental to me … because unique items should not have duplicates … because I did not want her to throw them out

• She keeps the cards...

… because I want her to deal with them … because their existence is painful to me … because… because…

I had very little to lose, and I knew it: the items’ information – two magic swords with dragon-slaying enchantments – had been recorded in my binder upon their looting, reducing any stakes of the outcome to whether it would keep me up at night. People-pleasing tendencies reared reliably thrashing maws at my principles, insisting through self-sabotage that my only priority was to act without spite or resentment. I was frozen by this weightless decision resting on my dignity.

So I hit the copium: rather than address this unsettling quandary as the most authentic version of myself, I reached into the depths of my Imaginary Costume Chest and procured the garb of the Dungeon Master. What would the ideal facilitator do? How would they deliberate over such a low-stakes scenario, charged as it was with emotionality? I quickly found my answer and transformed through its adjudication.

Experience dictates that enlightenment is not a once-and-for-all type deal, Siddhartha wasting away under the fig tree until perfection, weary from resistance, unravels forever. Rather, it is a series of accumulations, moments that shriek across the sky of inner sight, arriving unexpectedly and leaving as soon as you look away. In that moment, seeing through the eyes of the Dungeon Master, the Secondary World was there. The Table rose before me, and from ego-differed I saw what was due: that the fate of the cards should be decided by the player of the character possessing them, regardless of personal desire for the physical symbols. The player-character position of possession is weighty in classical adventure games; treasure is a promise of the play-style, the payout for characters bought into designs of Dungeons, Demi-Hells, and Derelicht Halls. The Truth of the Secondary World hinged on this adjudication: that – no matter what interpretation of the items’ possession I could enforce in later chronicles – the fate of their simulacrum in Reality must be decided by the equivalent representative of their possessor in the Other Realm. Any other choice was a dishonest attempt to twist the Secondary World around my selfish desire for power in Primary Reality.

Erudition

Who gives a shit, though, right? So much emotional effort spent just to decide the fate of some dingy 2x3 index cards pedantically recorded months before. Even still, I returned to the decision again and again, feeling a familiar truth that had evaded my comprehension for more than a decade of facilitation finally coming into focus. In therapy sessions following the breakup, I had confided doubts of my motivations for running games amidst shifting insecurities and self-loathing: that I used table time not as a thought-experiment I longed to leverage against those weaker parts of myself but as abolition of my responsibility to Primary Reality, to my obligations and concerns of a better life for myself and those around me. I doubted my practice, this steadfast duty to my happiness, in fear that it caused the crumbling of my relationship, rather than the tension and mistrust obviously sign-posted in shrinking gaps the farther down the road our time together traveled.

Cloaked in adjudication, I found sublimity. I was free from expectations of self-importance and righteous grandiosity, unshackled from my self-imposed totalitarian responsibility to be anything other than a conduit for the Truth of the Secondary World. My weakness was leveraged against the fulcrum of objective judgement. Removing my ego from the equation, I found peace in the Dungeon Master’s decision.

This epiphany is my remaking, an affirmation of my long-held belief in the practice of officiating the movements of the Secondary World; when we gaze into the Other Realm to see what could be, we are afforded the grace to think beyond our compromised persona in Reality to the idealization of our selves. The Dungeon Master’s thankless role is to give what is due the actions of those who brave the dangerous truths inside the Secondary World, moving and changing as it is even when our minds’ eyes are occupied; becoming this conduit, the Dungeon Master is anointed in acceptance of the truths they must bear. For me, just this is it: the idealization of my highest self is purest acceptance, and each orracular excursion across the Table and into the Beyond is an exercise in that action. With hope, I gaze into wonder and oblivion, knowing that the Secondary World is only just outside the scope of reality by the width of a dreamspan.

I sent her a reply with thanks for the consideration. In the post-apocalypse of my anxious breakdown, I coincidentally put my current game on hiatus for the season; sabbatical was spent compulsively plumbing the depths of myself for changes the Dungeon Master has imparted to me with years of practice. Any ttrpg player with some experience can describe at least one moment when the line between themselves and their character blur, the bounds between the Primary self and the soul on the Table becoming too small to sense. These event horizons eclipse the light of our egos, and in the cold shadow we learn where our silhouette overlaps with our characters’. Is the Dungeon Master a projection of my inner landscape, disappearing with ego death? An archetype of acceptance to aspire to, standing parallel to me in the shadow? Only a lifetime can tell.

#d&d #role playing game #rpg #ttrpg #ttrpg community #dungeon master

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